Perpetual Motion
by Chelsie Dagger
Summary: January 1922: Part of the 'Moving' AU. Charles and Elsie continue to build their life in Hull, visit Downton and take their trip to Italy. Life happens along the way. This is, essentially, my take on series 4. DOES NOT CONTAIN series 5 spoilers.
1. Right Where We Left Off

**FYI, if you have not read the first two stories in this AU, Moving Forward and Moving On, this recap and chapter will have spoilers.  
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**Previously on….Matthew is still dead. Mary is doing a little better. Charles and Elsie are doing A LOT better; they are happily married and living in Hull. He is working for his Uncle Timothy and Cousin Fredrick. She is launching an event planning/ staffing agency with Suzanne Heaton, the wife of Charles' childhood friend, Nathan who is a fisherman. They just finished a successful Burns Supper, during which Charles, who is currently wearing a kilt, bye the bye, has learned that the 740 pounds he thought his father had left him is, in fact, 740 THOUSAND pounds. Elsie does not know this yet. Oh, yeah, and Charles is Robert and Rosamund's half-brother; his father being the previous Earl of Grantham. **

**Apparently, this AU is the 'angst' one, so be warned. It won't be ALL fluff;)**

**We rejoin them now at the Burn's Dinner…**

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January 25th 1922

"Nothing is wrong, exactly. Elsie, love, we need to talk." He took her hand. "But first, I need a whiskey."

Elsie followed him to where the last bottles with the last dregs of whiskey sat unattended. He filled his empty glass. "While you are fortifying yourself, Charles, I should warn you; I've invited Beryl to stop the night with us."

Charles' pour became much heavier than he'd intended. "You what? I thought she was staying with Mrs. Kerr."

"Beryl might have made a comment about the haggis being bland. In any event, her invitation was revoked."

That sounded like Beryl. "I am very sorry for her, but did you know there are these magical places, Elsie, where they will take in people with no place else to go? They are called hotels."

"Beryl hates hotels. She says they are full of strange noises. She was going to leave the festivities early to take the train back tonight. She only agreed to stay so late tonight because she could stay with Mrs. Kerr."

"Then she should not have insulted her hostess." Charles pointed out.

"Well, she cannot undo that, Charles, so your advice is not very helpful. She is on her own, in a town she does not know and she is our friend."

"Need I point out to you that we do not have guest accommodations?"

"We have the couch and plenty of blankets."

"I would feel uncomfortable asking Mrs. Patmore to sleep on our couch."

"As would I. Which is why my lovely husband will be offering to do so." Charles was speechless. He looked at her, making what Elsie considered his indignant 'fish face'; mouth in a small, perfect circle and cheeks puffing in and out. "Unless you think there is room enough in the bed for all three of us?" He downed his glass of whiskey in one, deep drought and filled it again.

Before Charles could recover enough to answer, Beryl bustled up to them, looking sheepishly at Charles. "I am sorry to push in like this, Charles. Though I must say, Elsie has told me so much about your flat that I am anxious to see it. I promise that I will not be a bother. Just give me a blanket and I'll be fine on a couch or settee, or whatever you have."

"Nonsense, Beryl." Charles smiled unconvincingly. "You are to be our guest. You and Elsie shall take the bed. I shall be more than happy to sleep on the couch." Elsie squeezed his hand in thanks.

"Things are winding down now, Beryl. Why don't you fetch your things from the kitchen while I check in with Suzanne?" Gratefully, Beryl dashed off to the kitchen, hoping Mrs. Kerr had not hidden her things, or worse. Before hurrying off to assist Suzanne with the final details of the evening, Elsie remembered something. "Oh, Charles, you never told me what all that business with Mr. Pease was about."

"It will keep until tomorrow." He only hoped the same could be said of him. He stared deeply into his whiskey as if asking it for help before finishing it off.

-00-

It was well past midnight as they climbed up their considerable front steps to reach the flat. Once there, Beryl put up a valiant show of a protest, but Charles' insistence did not waiver, though his patience showed signs of cracking.

"No, Charles, I insist."

"Beryl, really, I insist." His teeth were grinding together as he tried to smile sincerely. They both knew where they would end up sleeping, he thought. Why did they have to go through the motions of fighting about it?

"Fine! It's decided. Thank you, love." Elsie had declared the matter closed before it escalated to incivility.

Glad that was over with, Charles made a pot of tea while Elsie was settling Beryl in. He set a tray with two cups and a small pile of the assorted biscuits that Elsie thought she kept hidden from him behind the flour. He knew the two friends would want to stay up all night gossiping.

He was sitting at the table letting the tea leaves steep when Elsie came out to the kitchen, already wearing her nightgown and robe. Her hair was down in a soft plait. She smiled to see her man sitting there, looking almost natural in his kilt. His eyes were droopy with whiskey and fatigue. She saw the prepared tray. "Charles, this was very thoughtful of you. I am sure Beryl and I will be up into the wee hours chatting."

"Though Fredrick said I can come in a few hours later than usual, I do have to go into work tomorrow. I didn't want to hear you both clanging about in the kitchen trying not to wake me." He deflected her thanks grumpily, before pouting. "I had rather hoped that we would be up into the wee hours for quite another reason."

"We can do that tomorrow evening." She tousled his hair lovingly.

"Elsie, love, I believe you are beginning to take me for granted." He slurred slightly.

"Never, my great man." She kissed his greyed temple as she went to the cupboard to retrieve a small bottle of brandy she kept hidden behind the biscuits she kept hidden behind the flour. Elsie did not think tea would be sufficient for their slumber party. "I want to tell her, love." Elsie said without preamble.

"Tell her?" His muddled brain struggled to understand her.

"About your connection to the family."

"We promised the family we would wait two more weeks."

"But you cannot honestly think Cora will last that long, can you? If Beryl finds out from anyone but us, it will hurt her greatly."

"And I thought Rosamund would be the weak link in our chain of secrecy."

"Usually, I would agree, but not in this case. Rosamund may be the biggest gossip of us, but she has more incentive to keep this silent than any of us. I'll make Beryl swear to keep silent."

"It won't do any good to swear her to secrecy. She's bound to go straight to Anna and Mr. Bates with this. Please, love. Only two more weeks." He held out his hand to her and drew her to stand before him when she took it. "Then we'll be back at Downton. We'll call Anna and Beryl and Bates into Anna's office and tell them before we tell the rest of the staff."

"They are going to find out before that." She frowned down at him.

"You don't know that for certain, but, if you tell Beryl, it is guaranteed that everyone will find out before the agreed upon time. Even if the secret is to be revealed too early, I do not want it coming from us. It affects them more than it does us. And we gave our word. "

"That was very shortsighted of us." Elsie pouted, but she saw his point. "Beryl already suspects something. I suppose I could tell her about the money from your father and our trip to Italy. That might appease her."

"It's funny you should mention that…" He began.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something." Beryl's voice preceded her into the kitchen. Like Elsie, she was wearing her gown and robe. She wore a kerchief over her bristly red hair.

"Unfortunately not." Elsie teased.

Charles rolled his eyes and stood. "If you ladies are done in the bathroom, I'll wash up and turn in now. Congratulations on such a successful evening, love." He kissed his wife. "Good night, Beryl."

"Good night, Charles." Beryl replied, her cheeks ruddier than usual due to the evenings libations and celebration. "You should consider wearing that kilt more often, Charles. It's a damn shame to hide those legs. Don't you agree, Elsie?"

Their giggles followed him down the hallway to the bathroom, where he quickly dressed for bed and washed his teeth.

TBC…

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**AN/ Seven months after it was promised…here we go. I hope this will carry us until the UK launch date, but I had hoped to start posting this in January, so take all my stated intentions with a few grains (pounds) of salt.**

**FYI, for those of you who aren't familiar with this AU...Besides _Moving Forward_ and _Moving On_, there is a series of prequels..._Training Wheels_ (and _Epilogue_), _Never Downton Land_ and _Because I Could Not Stop for Death. _This story can stand alone, but will make more sense if you've read these others.**

**Obligatory call for reviews…It goes without saying that I, like ALL AUTHORS, love reviews, but I don't like to beg. I read them all (I even have a few stitched onto throw pillows) and they do influence the story. I will reply when I can, but if I'm in full writing mode and posting daily, I might not be super consistent. **


	2. Shepherd's Pie

Charles spent an uneasy night on the couch; _mostly_ on the couch. He was too long to lay out on it completely and too wide to curl up on it comfortably. Ultimately, he pulled a chair over and rested his feet on the chair where they extended beyond the end of the couch and off to the side a bit. This worked well for a while, until he turned over, reaching his arm out in his sleep to find his wife. He fell off the couch headfirst as his feet remained on the chair. Grumbling a long series of curses that involved a certain cook, he gave up and tried sleeping sitting up.

He could just hear Elsie and Beryl giggling like school girls in _his_ room. He imagined they were sitting up on _his_ nice soft bed and sipping tea and brandy. They should be out here and he should be in there. It was only logical, he told himself, but he was not about to suggest a switch. Just as he was starting to nod off, Beryl's laughter shrieked through the flat. He could hear Elsie shushing her but laughing herself. A glass broke and the laughing increased in volume. When it quieted down, Charles heard the door to their bedroom open. He knew Elsie was coming out to make sure they had not disturbed him. He closed his eyes to feign sleep and tried to look comfortable. He wasn't comfortable at all, but he didn't want to take anything away from her triumphant night and he knew she was enjoying spending time with her dear friend.

Elsie carried the broken glass to the sink before peeking into the sitting room. She could see the outline of Charles' head leaning on the top of the couch. She smiled at him in the dark. If he'd slept through that, he'd sleep through the second coming. As much fun as Elsie was having catching up with the Downton gossip, Elsie wished she could lock Beryl into the bedroom and wake her husband with a sensual kiss. She remembered how handsome he had looked in his kilt earlier in the evening. She sighed and took down a coffee mug from the cabinet. Surely Beryl couldn't break that as well.

Sometime around three in the morning, unable to really care about the saga of Daisy, Ivy and Alfred, Elsie had fallen asleep while Beryl was still talking. Later in the morning, Elsie awoke naturally. She decided to let Beryl sleep off the whiskey and brandy while she made Charles some breakfast. She'd become quite good at toast and scrambled eggs.

As she walked into the kitchen, she spared a quick look towards the couch. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in laughter. Charles _had_ apparently heard them last night. He was still sitting where she had seen him last night, but now he had tied the pillow to his head with his robe sash, apparently to muffle the sounds of the two women.

Elsie set some coffee on to percolate before approaching her lovely man. His chin was resting on his chest and he was snoring lightly. Gently, she eased his head back into a more comfortable position and started to untie the pillow from his head. He began to stir at her touch. She could not resist leaning down to wake him with a kiss.

"Mmm." He groaned sleepily. "Beryl. Mmm."

Elsie's eyebrows went up and she smiled. _Daft man._ Two could play this game. She opened her lips and licked gently along his lips before kissing him again. His mouth opened too and he pulled her down onto the couch beside him. His eyes were still closed.

"Mmm. We have to be quick, Beryl, before Elsie wakes." He whispered huskily as his arms enveloped her. Elsie had reached her patience with his joke. She slapped playfully at his chest.

"Wake up, you silly goose."

His eyes opened and he looked directly at her. "Oh, it's you." He was wide awake and grinning.

"You were expecting someone else?"

"I was having the most marvelous dream." She could tell he was setting up a joke as he probably had done in his days as a Cheerful Charlie. She played the straight man to his clown.

"Do tell." This had better be good.

"Well, Beryl was in my bed and…" He smiled like a wolf and pulled her closer hungrily. "She'd brought the most delicious apple tart."

He started to nibble her neck as she laughed. This playful, teasing side of him had been one of her greatest surprises in their marriage. He still offered a stern façade to most of the world, but privately, he was so very different. She had known that he had a deep capacity for humor, but she had not suspected him capable of just plain silliness. Though no one would likely believe her, Elsie now knew that Charles Carson was fun. There was no better word for it. He had an active imagination and a childlike appreciation for the absurd.

Elsie almost let herself get carried away in the moment, but the sound of the coffee beginning to percolate reminded her that they still had a guest.

"Tonight, love." She sighed breathlessly as she set back up. "I promise you something that will make you forget your pudding altogether."

"That's quite a statement." Charles chuckled. "You know how I like my pudding, love."

"Yes," Elsie winked back at him. "I do know what you like."

-00-

Charles was greeted by delicious smells filling the flat when he returned home that evening. "Hullo?" He called out, half expecting Beryl's jolly voice. Elsie had certainly never cooked anything that smelled this good.

"In the kitchen, love." Elsie called. Charles walked through, but stopped in the doorway to watch his beautiful wife bustling about the kitchen. She looked up at him as she finished setting the table. "Come in. Take a load off, as they say."

"I brought you these," he produced a small bouquet of dried flowers. "I was a bit of a grump last night and this morning."

She laughed and took the flowers from him with a kiss. "You are always a bit of a grump, Charles. It's one of my favorite things about you."

"That doesn't mean that I should not apologize. And I wanted to say again how proud I am of you and Suzanne. When Fredrick and I took tea today at a shop by the office, I overheard people gushing about your Burns Dinner."

"Apology accepted. And Beryl would forgive you too. In fact, she wanted to thank us for hosting her." Elsie motioned towards the stove.

"Oh, that explains…" but he stopped mid sentence. He did not want to jeopardize what looked to be a very promising evening.

"Explains what?" Elsie demanded, putting him on the spot. "Why dinner smells like _dinner_?"

"I was not going to say that." She looked at him steadily until he admitted, "I was going to say that explains why dinner smells _so good_."

"Beryl taught me how to make one of your favorites; Shepherd's Pie. We split the recipe in half. She made one and I made one." She unveiled two small tin pie plates. If he had not been told, he would not have known that they contained the same dish. "Guess which one is mine?"

Knowing his answer would affect his chances in the bedroom that evening, Charles weighed his words carefully. He didn't want to insult her, but he also knew that patronizing her was no safer a route. "Well, I know Beryl's style…so I would guess…this one is hers." He pointed to the dish that was recognizable as food.

"Wrong!" She said triumphantly, before bursting into laughter at his shocked expression. "Oh, of course that pile of mess is mine." She admitted, indicating the pathetic pile of potatoes, crust and gravy.

"Maybe it tastes better than it looks, love." He offered.

"You're welcome to find out, but I shan't be trying it." She began to serve from Beryl's tin.

"You went to a lot of work and the least I can do is taste it." Charles insisted bravely.

"Suit yourself." She shrugged and began to spoon some of her attempt onto his plate as he sat down.

She set their plates on the table and sat down beside him. She tried not to stare as he took a bite. She had not expected him to actually eat her Shepherd's Pie, but now that he was, she wanted very much to know what he thought.

"Hmm." He grunted noncommittally and took another bite.

"Mmm. This is quite good, Elsie." He declared. She looked at him skeptically. "Well, the presentation could use some work, but that doesn't affect the flavor."

She beamed proudly as he continued to eat happily.

"You've done something different from Beryl's usual recipe," he contorted his face to and fro and smacked his tongue trying to figure it out. "Is that…cinnamon?"

Elsie blushed and nodded. "It looks just like All Spice when it's ground."

"Well, I don't recommend keeping that change, but otherwise, not bad." He leaned over and kissed her. "I'm very proud of you, love. Now we can add something to the dinner rotation that isn't stew."

Elsie wiped the crumbs from his kiss from her cheek and smiled. "Maybe Beryl was right. Maybe it doesn't matter what I cook, you seem able to eat anything."

"Well, I have it on good authority that tonight's pudding is worth cleaning one's plate for." He winked.

TBC…

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**AN/ Thank you for all the enthusiastic reviews. We'll start out with some nice Chelsie fluff, but there will be some angst down the road, so enjoy it now.**


	3. Charlene

As they were washing up the dishes, Elsie made a shy request.

"Charles, do you think you might wear your kilt again tonight? I didn't get to fully appreciate your knees last night with Beryl around."

Charles started to protest that the kilt was a once a year event and she had missed her opportunity for this year, but he saw the look in her eye and didn't think it was in his best interest to refuse her.

"I don't think it's my knees you are interested in, lass."

"You might be right," she giggled and bumped him with her shoulder as she handed him the last plate to dry.

"Then wait here, love." He dried the plate and hurried to their bedroom to dress as quickly as he could. Given his years of changing several times a day, he was quite speedy. Very shortly, he came out in his regalia. He had skipped the jacket, but wore the vest and tie with his shirt. Besides the jacket, Charles had also omitted one other piece of clothing; his undershorts. Not wearing anything under the kilt was a unique sensation for him. The freedom made him walk a little differently.

Elsie laughed as he strutted towards her where she sat on the couch beside the hearth. With the stress of the Burns dinner gone, Elsie felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. On top of that, the sight of her husband kitted out in his kilt made her happier than she could say.

"That's quite a strut you have there, Mr. Carson. You should wear a kilt more often."

"My strut is nothing to my wife's swish."

"My _what?_" She stood up and put her hands indignantly on her hips.

"Your swish; when you flounce your hips and swish your skirts." He waggled his own hips and moved the kilt to illustrate his point.

"You're very good at that, Mr. Carson." Elsie smiled, walking to him with an extra swish in her step. Charles smiled appreciatively at the demonstration. When she reached him, her arms encircled as much of him as they could and they laughed together before he leaned down and kissed her.

"Did I ever tell you about Charlene?" He knew full well he had not, but he had been waiting for the perfect moment. No moment was likely to be more perfect than this.

Elsie frowned. "Who?"

"Charlene. She was part of the Cheerful Charlies for a time."

"Are you honestly choosing this moment to tell me about _another_ girl from your theatre days?" Her arms relaxed, her body tensed and she stepped back from him.

"Not just any girl. Charlene was very special." He indicated that she might want to sit, but Elsie stood with her arms crossed in front of her and her eyebrows raised as though she was about to listen to an explanation from a maid who had been caught out.

"Charlene was in the second half of our act for a while. In the first half, we'd sing and dance and tell some jokes. Some of the jokes were about my fictitious sister, Charlene. They were mostly about how ugly she was."

"That's unkind, Charles, especially if she really was ugly." The truth was, Elsie wanted to hear that Charlene was very ugly.

"Oh, she was hideous." Charles admitted. "But she had an amazing voice. So many of the songs needed a woman, which is why Grigg suggested we add her to the act."

Elsie managed to keep her relieved smile to herself.

"After the first half of our act, we'd go off and make way for some of the other performers. When it was our turn again, Grigg would go out on stage by himself. He talked about how, even though she was hideous looking, he'd fallen in love with Charlene and planned to woo her. That's when I came in."

Charles put his hands up in front of his face like a fan and fluttered his eyelashes at her.

Elsie looked at him as though he had lost him mind until the truth dawned on her. "_You_ were Charlene?"

"I was. I wore a huge hat with blond curls attached to it. I hid my face behind a fan and batted my eyes at him. People immediately knew it was me. It always got a huge laugh."

Elsie was laughing and trying to picture Charles as a huge, blonde woman. She also realized why he was telling her now. "So that's why you are so good at swishing. This isn't your first time in a skirt."

"It was more of a table cloth than a skirt." Charles laughed with her.

"And you sung the women's part in the songs?" Elsie gasped around her laughter. Her arms were wrapped around herself now, holding her sides as she almost doubled over.

Charles nodded. "In my best baritone, two octaves below Grigg's falsetto."

Now she did double over, completely losing her composure. He placed his arms around her and joined her hilarity. When they had both recovered somewhat, she gasped, "I'm sure Charlene was a very handsome woman."

"There is nowhere on this earth she would have been considered anything but ugly." He insisted.

"Well, she is a very handsome man who looks ever so lovely in his manly kilt." Elsie assured him, her teasing mood shifting very quickly back to her earlier amorous mood. She craned up to kiss him and moved within his embrace to run her hands along his plaid covered posterior. He hummed in satisfaction as they backed slowly towards the couch.

He wasn't given time or space to feel awkward at the teasing way his wife pulled up his skirt. _Kilt!_ He reminded himself. _It's a damn kilt, man._ It reminded him of the many times he had bunched her skirts in his hands whenever a sudden amorous mood might move him and he couldn't wait for her to undress herself. He wondered if the feel of the fabric gathering in her hands excited her the way it excited him. He pulled back a little to look into her eyes. It was clear that this reversal of roles thrilled Elsie. As she lifted the hem of his kilt to slip her hands beneath it, she whispered longingly to her husband, "Let's see what we've got here my great man."

He had decided to go regimental tonight for expediency's sake and to see the shock on his wife's face. He was not disappointed.

"Oh! Mo gràdh gael!" She bit her lip and laughed as her hands reached his buttocks and found them bare. "A regimental man!"

They reached the couch and he sat down. She moved to straddle him. Elsie continued to whisper lovingly to him and her hands explored beneath the kilt as he removed her blouse and skirt over her head. At one point, her lusty brogue became so thick that he could not understand what she was saying. He suspected that she'd begun speaking in Scots, but the only word he could discern was 'caber'. He did not need to understand her words to understand her meaning. Charles let himself be swept along with her fervor and was amply rewarded for his trust.

When he had removed her clothing, he removed his tie, vest and shirts. He started to unpin the kilt, but she placed her hand on his and stopped him. She rolled the kilt up between them and slid herself up his thighs as he leaned down to kiss the top of her breasts.

His head leaned back over the couch back as she rose up on her knees a little and pressed her chest against his. Her lips tasted his pulse as it rushed through his neck. She lowered herself on to him with her hand between them, guiding him inside of her.

As they moved, the rough wool rubbed between them, adding heat and friction to their union. Her words of growing pleasure echoed in their little sitting room and down into the warehouse below. His voice joined hers in a chorus of ecstasy. Elsie took her pleasure from him and gave her body to him in return.

Few coherent thoughts passed through Charles' mind, but he was blindingly aware that he was quickly growing fond of his kilt; very fond indeed.

TBC…

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**AN/ Elsie will find out about the money in the next chapter, but I got side tracked by this weird Charlene idea. It's a small nod to his role as the 'nurse' in Shakespeare in Love.**


	4. Decimal Places Matter

When they were both satisfied and spent, they lay sprawled across the couch. He still wore the kilt and socks, but was bare chested. She was naked with her head on his chest and her finger playing with the longer hairs in the middle of his chest. She lazily twirled them into little curls.

"I don't know what you were complaining about, Charles. This is just as comfortable as our bed." She joked.

"It was much more comfortable with you than without, love."

"Have you changed your mind about kilts?"

"I am torn. I don't know which I like best; Scotch whiskey or the Scottish kilt."

"That's why they are best when combined and Burns Night is a great excuse to do just that."

"Here's to good ole Robbie." Charles pretended to toast and drink. Something about the way he swigged the pantomimed whiskey triggered a memory for Elsie.

"You never told me your news from yesterday." She prompted.

"Huh?"

"From Mr. Pease?"

"Oh, yes." He had honestly forgotten about the money. "Well, I've been a little preoccupied."

"And you may be preoccupied later, so you'd best tell me now." Her voice lilted, full of promised mischief.

He sat up straighter and pulled her closer to him. He loved that she was not embarrassed or distracted by being so exposed. Unfortunately, it was January and the coals had burned low while things had heated up between them. Charles reached for the throw at the end of the couch and enfolded Elsie in the warming fabric. When she was comfortably settled, he began. "It's rather big news, Elsie. I hope you won't be upset that I've waited to tell you."

"You don't have another set of half siblings somewhere, do you?"

"Not that I know of," he chuckled. "But this does have to do with my father."

Elsie was suddenly more serious. She was not sure if he was speaking about his biological father or the man who had raised him, but it was still not easy for him to talk about either.

"The money he left us…" He paused here for a very long time, not knowing how to phrase it.

Elsie misread his pained expression. "Charles, if you feel strangely taking the money, I understand. We can just give it to charity if you prefer. It would be _nice _to have an extra seven hundred pounds, of course it would, but we don't need it."

"Thank you for that, love, but that's not it." He assured her. "And it isn't seven hundred pounds."

"Seven hundred and forty five pounds and some shillings and pence, or whatever it is." Elsie shrugged. It wasn't as if she were keeping a ledger, the exact amount didn't matter at the moment. Or so she thought.

"No. That isn't it either. We thought my father started the account with five pounds."

She nodded. Was he embarrassed by the small amount? She tried to reassure him, "I'm sure he would have continued to add to it if he hadn't died."

"But we were wrong." Charles continued. "My father's initial investment was money Uncle Timothy paid him for his share in the shipping enterprise. The account started with five _thousand _pounds, not five. The current sum is well over seven hundred _thousand_ pounds. "

Elsie stared at him in shocked silence. All the blood left her face. He stared back, smiling in a fashion that looked apologetic. He shrugged, "Apparently, we are what they call loaded."

Color began to slowly creep back into her cheeks. She sat up on her knees and took his face in her hands. She looked deeply into his eyes. _If this is some kind of joke_…she thought.

He smiled at her with a simple joy. "We will never have to worry about money again. Now I can give you the world and everything you deserve."

"You have already given me the world, Charles." She kissed him softly. Elsie was still very much in shock, but the reality was beginning to dawn on her. She didn't want to tell him how naïve he was being when he said they'd never worry about money again. "You've given me all the important things that money can't buy."

"But now I can give you more."

She snuggled back beside him, her mind racing with the implications. They were richer than the Crawleys and probably as cash rich as the Levinsons. This would change things. Charles had weathered so many changes lately, she hoped all the changes attendant with this money wouldn't prove too much for him.

"Seven hundred thousand pounds." She whispered and began to snicker.

"What's so funny, love?"

"That explains why Mr. Pease was so confused we weren't more excited when we first discovered the account. No wonder he didn't want you to make it a joint account and no wonder he was so relieved when you decided to continue banking with them." She shook her head in bewilderment. "Do you realize that you could have broken the bank by closing your account that day?"

"Do you think so? I can't be sure. We are speaking of money in amounts that, to me, are theoretical at best and at worst, obscene." Charles admitted. "It is a bit overwhelming."

"But you've known all day, so it must be sinking in. Have you given much thought to what you want to do?"

"I have some ideas, but I'm not sure how it all works with money in these amounts. I told Mr. Pease we'd come to the bank next week to talk about some particulars. I'm sure taxes will take their chunk once we start to use the money."

"But what do you want to do with it?" Elsie asked again.

Charles thought. He'd had plenty of thoughts about the money and how to put it to good use. He started speaking slowly, but sped up as his confidence grew.

"I want to set up funds for Miss Sybbie to go to university if she wants. Her mother would have wanted that." Elsie nodded but remained silent.

"I'd like to do the same for Nathan and Suzanne's grandchildren and Annette and Brittany. It would be nice to set a trust aside for George as well, just in case something happens to the estate. And something for Mary in case something happens to George.

Charles' eyes had a far off look in them as he imagined all the ways to use their windfall to help their friends.

"The local church and school buildings need repairs. The Fisherman's Memorial Fund always needs money. We could sponsor scholarships for children whose fathers died at sea." _As his father had_, they both thought but did not say.

"You want to educate all of Yorkshire by the sound of it." Elsie smiled at her generous man. "Even the girls." She was astonished at his progressive attitude.

"Education is important. The world ahead is different from the world we grew up in, Elsie. Education will make the difference to these children, especially the girls. I'm still uncomfortable with women being doctors and lawyers, but we lost so many of our young men, I don't see how it can be avoided."

There was the traditionalist she remembered. "I agree that education is important, though I do disagree with you about it being unsuitable for certain professions."

"I don't think their unsuitable. I just wish it wasn't necessary for them to have to do such distasteful jobs."

"Your heart is in the right place, regardless." She closed the topic that was unlikely to lead anywhere productive. "What do you want to do after we've seen to everyone's educational future?"

"We could lend money to the estate for capital improvements. I know there are lots of things Tom can't do because of the money they are paying towards the taxes. It might help them earn more and get out from under the mortgage sooner.

"We can buy the Grantham Arms outright and have it ready for Anna and John whenever they want to start a family. I think Edith should have something more to live on so she can move out of Downton if she wishes. Sometimes I think she must feel trapped there."

Charles was beginning to be excited now. He'd thought of so many ways to spend the money, but none of them had seemed real until discussed with Elsie. So far, she seemed to agree with all his suggestions.

"I was thinking we could buy this warehouse and flat from Uncle Timothy."

"What do we need with a warehouse, Charles?"

"For your and Suzanne's business. You could hold your training here. You could store things; extra chairs, plates, tables, linens, etcetera. We could buy you a truck for hauling it all around. May and Colin could move to Hull and he could drive the truck for you." Charles was convinced that Colin could stop drinking to excess if he was removed from his circle of acquaintances in St. Annes. It was an elegant solution to several problems.

"We could set them up in a nice flat nearby."

"You _have_ given it some thought, but you've forgotten someone, Charles?"

He tried to count everyone in his head. "We'll do something nice for Beryl and Daisy and the staff too, if that's what you mean."

"No, you've forgotten a very important person."

"You can have anything you want, love. All the coats that Selfridges and sew! We'll go to Greece when we are done in Italy."

"That isn't who I meant."

"Who, then?"

"Yourself, of course. You've listed all these things for other people. What do you want?"

Charles looked confused. "But it's all for me, love. I want everyone I love to be happy and secure. Besides, I already have everything I need." He squeezed her lovingly but she was not to be distracted.

"There's nothing you want just for yourself? An automobile or a yacht?"

"What would I do with those?" Her mention of a boat did spark something. "Now that I think of it, I would like to repay the original amount paid to my father by the estate. In fact, maybe we should just sign it all over to the estate. It never really belonged to me."

"Nonsense, by the sound of it, you'll do more good with this money than Lord Grantham ever could." Neither Elsie nor Charles were yet comfortable calling Robert by his given name.

"But I don't want it to change our lives too much. I'd like to keep the amount of money a secret between you and me and Mr. Pease." One thing Charles knew for sure, he did not want a big house with servants. If people knew exactly how much money he had inherited, they would expect Elsie and him to set up house somewhere with domestics of their own. It was one thing to interact with Fredrick's servants, but to hire people of their own would feel too strange.

"Very well, Charles. One secret at a time." They would be at Downton in a few weeks to announce Charles' connection to the family. Dropping the news of their new wealth might be too much for some. Thomas' head might explode, she thought with a smirk.

They both yawned in near unison. "I am not spending another night on this couch, Mrs. Carson." Charles declared.

"Would you like to join me in our bedroom, Mr. Carson?" She stood up, keeping the throw wrapped around her.

"At the moment, I can think of nothing I would like better."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ He threw out a lot of possibilities for the money, most of which, they will do. Any other suggestions? Elsie hasn't had time to come up with her ideas yet.**

**ETA/ Fredrick's children are Annette and Brittany, NOT Tamara and Brittany. Thank you to Libbybell for catching that!**


	5. A Trip to the Bank

**AN/ Thank you for your suggestions and discussions about their windfall. I've blatantly stolen some of your comments. If I ever make any money off of this, I'll throw some your way (after Fellowes is done suing me).**

* * *

Their weekend was full of dreams and possibilities for the money, each one becoming more outrageous than the last. It started simply enough.

"We could buy a bigger bed." Charles suggested sleepily as he stretched grandly across their double bed Saturday morning. He wiggled the toes of his foot that was hanging over the side of the bed.

"You'd fit just fine if you lay in it properly. There might even be room for both of us. Not that I have any complaints." Elsie giggled from her place, lying half atop him. "I think the money would be better spent on a larger couch."

"What would we need with a bigger couch?"

"If you have to ask…" She shrugged and rolled off him. He did not let her roll very far. Charles' hand gripped her waist and pulled her back towards him.

"I could buy you one of those silky, frilly, flapper gowns with the beads and a head band." His fingers tickled her side when he moved them like the fringe from a dress might.

"Why would you want me to dress like a flapper? I'm hardly a bright, young thing."

"None of that talk, please, Mrs. Carson. You are _my _bright, young thing." Charles insisted in a silky voice that sent shivers through her. "You would be beautiful in anything, love, but I must say, those slips look so much easier to remove than your usual buttoned up garments."

"You want to buy me a dress for _ease of access_, Mr. Carson?" Elsie teased. He blushed and nodded as his hand caressed the soft, white skin of her inner thigh just below the hem of her nightgown. She closed her eyes and relished his touch. He was kissing her body lightly through the thin silk of her nightgown which he was pulling slowly up her body.

"I might be persuaded, Charles, on one condition." Elsie offered, her voice a collection of broken breaths.

"Name it." His voice was muffled as he spoke into the exposed flesh of her stomach.

"You must wear kilts more often."

This made him pause. "I'll look silly wearing a kilt around Hull or Downton. I'll tell you what; I'll buy you a little Scottish cottage. We'll spend the spring running through the heather and I'll wear nothing but kilts."

"That sounds like a lovely way to spend out summers. Where shall we spend the summer?"

"On a Greek isle where we can play in the warm waters all day. A boat will come once a week to bring us provisions, but we'll be alone otherwise. There will be no bells or post or phones or clocks."

"And what will we wear on this isolated beach."

"That's the beauty of it." Charles leered. "We won't need clothing at all."

"We don't seem to have much need of clothing at the moment either."

-00-

Their walk home after Sunday luncheon with Fredrick and the rest of the Carson family took them through the city center and along the main shopping avenue of Hull. Neither of them could keep their eyes from lingering on the colorful displays in the windows. They walked in silence, resisting the urge to point at things and offer to buy them for each other when the shops opened on Monday morning. They did not gush, _Shouldn't you like that hat, love?_ or _That coat would just suit you._ It was a strange sensation to realize that they could easily afford everything that they saw. This new buying power made them uncharacteristically pensive on their walk home.

Elsie looked at the new fashions in the windows, but she thought of the bargain racks of last year's fashions at the backs of the stores. Most of her wardrobe, even her newest purchases, came from the back of the store. She wasn't sure she wanted to be one of the ladies who bought from the window display just so she could say she was fashionable.

Elsie's whole life had been about thrift. Even in their corner of Scotland, her mother's frugality was legendary. It was said throughout Argyll that Candice Hughes actually _could_ get blood from a stone. Economic responsibility was simply part of who Elsie Carson was. One did not just abandon part of oneself.

They passed a boutique window full of flapper fashions, accessories and paraphernalia. They both paused and looked at all the newfangled things. Charles' eyes fell on a dress that was little more than a slip. "I bet I could get that one off of you in less than five seconds," he declared.

"Goodness, Charles, is that the only way you evaluate my clothing? How quickly you can remove it? It isn't a race." Elsie admonished him.

"Sometimes I want you so badly and your stubborn clothing is the enemy." Charles kissed her hand. There were other couples on the street and he did not want to embarrass Elsie by kissing her properly.

Elsie was suddenly done window shopping. "How long do you think it would take you to remove the clothing that I'm wearing now?"

He stepped away from her and appraised her outfit. "Hmm. Counting the five minutes it will take us to get to the flat?"

"Yes."

"Four minutes." He pulled her gently after him as he took off at a rather brisk pace towards their home.

-00-

After much discussion, they'd decided to let Uncle Timothy in on their financial news and seek his guidance. Charles felt better having such a successful businessman available to advise them. He'd mentioned asking Robert for counsel, but Elsie had gently suggested his uncle as an alternative.

Timothy met them at the bank mid-morning on Tuesday for their appointment with Mr. Pease. Charles and Elsie outlined their hopes for setting up trusts for various charities and for the children's education.

"It's kind of you to consider Fredrick's family, Charles, but I've taken care of the girls' educations and dowries." Timothy assured him.

They used Timothy's previously calculated estimations for university costs, which moved things along very quickly. Soon, Mr. Pease and Uncle Timothy were roughing out the numbers and discussing the best way to put the money aside for the intended recipients. It turned out that Mr. Pease was a wizard at avoiding taxes. He considered the taxman his personal nemesis and always delighted in finding ways to thwart the government's attempts to steal his client's money. "With the amount you wish to give to charity, Mr. and Mrs. Carson, taxes will not be an issue."

By the time they had seen to setting up the initial round of annuities, they had accounted for just under one hundred thousand pounds.

"Is it enough, do you think, Mr. Pease?"

"These annuities are quite generous, Mr. Carson." Mr. Pease confirmed.

"One would rather do too much than too little," Charles reasoned. Now was time for Charles to address a delicate issue he had been avoiding.

"Uncle," Charles spoke quietly and Mr. Pease professionally pretended not to hear anything. "How much do you think was paid out to my father when he married my mother?"

Timothy thought. "He never told me the exact amount. It was maybe as much as eight hundred pounds. It was a fine boat. And he had enough to rent the house, too."

"I'd like to repay that money, Mr. Pease. What is the best way to give the estate eight hundred pounds?"

"A cash gift of that amount would not need to be reported on one's taxes," the banker informed them.

"Good. Could you please have that amount waiting for me on Friday next?" They would be returning to Downton next weekend for the big announcement and Charles was anxious to lift this debt from his ledger as soon as possible. Elsie understood his motivation and comforted him with a smile.

"I think we've made a good start, Mr. and Mrs. Carson." Mr. Pease congratulated them as they rose to leave. He helped Timothy Carson to his feet, though Mr. Pease was nearly as frail as the elder Carson. "And it's been a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Carson."

They offered their thanks and exited his office. Mr. Pease watched them go, shaking his head in wonder. _Charles and Elsie Carson are a singular couple and no mistake,_ he thought. In all his years as a banker, he'd never seen anyone give away that much money in one day and hardly bat an eye.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ We shall be returning to Downton soon to get everyone's reaction to Carson's big news.**


	6. Easy Money

Outside the bank, Charles and Elsie looked at each other in wonder. Had they really just disposed of almost one hundred thousand pounds? Charles had been considering the sum and trying to put it in perspective for the past few days. His salary as butler had been just over one hundred pounds a year. If you averaged how much he had earned in all his years in service, it was well below one hundred per year. It would have taken him over a thousand years to earn the money they just given away.

It was as though Elsie could read his mind. She shook her head in awe. "And there's still over six hundred thousand to go!"

She began laughing and Charles joined in. This all felt surreal, but in a good way.

Most of the annuities they'd established would not be used for over a decade, but it pleased them both to have looked after the future of those for whom they cared. Charles had wanted the bequests to be anonymous, but Elsie had argued that their intended recipients might be wary of accepting help from an unnamed source. Reluctantly, Charles had agreed to tell the family and the Heatons the identity of their benefactors, but he insisted that the charities be kept in the dark. This was actually a very wise decision, as it would keep Charles and Elsie from being pursued by fundraisers and do-gooders.

"You do still have a considerable sum, but at this pace, you'll burn through it in no time." Uncle Timothy cautioned, though he was chuckling too. "Mr. Pease is correct. You should take some time to soberly consider your next moves. I know you are anxious to move on the warehouse and the Grantham Arms, but they aren't going anywhere. You negotiated very favorable terms for the inn. You might want to stick to those terms. If Mr. Samuels gets wind that you are rich, the price might change."

"What about the warehouse?" Elsie asked.

"If your business requires a warehouse, I would be willing to lease it to you for a reasonable sum, but it might be some time before your business is large enough to need that much space." Timothy patted her hand. "Take things slow, my dear. Growing a business takes more than capitol; it takes patience."

"There's no one as patient as my wife." Charles gushed, putting his arm around Elsie. "If you need proof, just look who she's married to!"

"Patience does have its rewards." She smiled up at him. Something she'd been meaning to ask occurred to her. "Uncle, you've never seemed surprised or overwhelmed by the amount of money we are dealing with. Why is that?"

"I was the one who gave David the money he used to establish the account." Timothy shrugged. "When Charles told me that David had left him money, I knew how much it was to begin with. Being a businessman, I understood that fifty years of compounded interest would be a very large amount."

Satisfied with this explanation, Elsie offered, "Will you join us for a bite of lunch, uncle?"

"I'm expected back at home for luncheon today. Fredrick wants me to slow down and thinks forcing me to take my meals at home will accomplish that."

Charles hailed a cab for Timothy and helped the old man in. "Thank you for all of your advice today, uncle. I am sure we are not done availing ourselves of your wisdom."

"You know where to find me, lad, but you both have excellent instincts when it comes to money. I think if you and your good wife agree on something, you may be confident that it is an excellent idea."

With these words of praise ringing in their ears, Charles and Elsie strolled up the street in the general direction of Timothy and Fredrick's offices. A small tea shop caught their eye and they ducked in for a quick bite.

They talked more about the money, but soon moved on to other topics. They'd spent enough time talking about money this morning to last them for a while.

"I've missed this, Charles." Elsie admitted somewhat sadly. "I miss you during the day."

"It is strange to me that you aren't just around the corner." Charles agreed. "There are a few empty offices in our building. Maybe you and Suzanne could set up shop in those rooms. You'd be out visiting clients some days, but we could walk to and from work together and take lunch or tea together most days."

"Do you think Fredrick would let us use the rooms?"

"For a fee, my dear. It is a business, not a charity." Charles teased. "I can't say how wonderful it would be to work in the same building as my beloved wife again."

Elsie blushed at his compliment, but felt very much the same way. Their lives in Hull were challenging and fulfilling, but so very different from their years in Yorkshire. She knew that having Charles closer to her during the day would remedy the one complaint she had with their current arrangement. "Why don't I come back with you now and look at the space?"

-00-

"I don't want to go to Downton." Elsie pouted the next Friday morning.

"Don't you want to see Beryl and Anna?"

"Of course, but going to Downton requires that I get up to get dressed and I don't want to leave this bed." She rolled twice to her left and still didn't fall out of the bed. Charles smiled to see his practical wife acting so silly.

The new bed had been delivered only a few days ago. It had been their first and only major purchase after discovering the true extent of their windfall. They had taken to heart the advice from Uncle Timothy and Mr. Pease to think carefully before moving on to grander purchases such as the Grantham Arms or the warehouse.

The bed frame had been in pieces and easily handled, but Suzanne and Elsie had enjoyed watching and teasing Nathan and Charles as they wrestled the larger mattress up the stairs. Elsie would have been content with a Queen-sized bed, but Charles insisted on the King. They still spent most of their nights curled closely together in the middle of the giant mattress, but it was nice to have the option to sprawl out a little. In addition, they'd made good use of the extra space in their non sleeping moments in bed.

Charles knew Elsie was eyeing a new couch, but she had agreed to wait until after they returned from Italy. He was definitely going to pay someone to carry the couch up the stairs.

Fredrick had been made aware of the revelation of Charles' parentage. Subsequently, the trip to the continent had been pushed back to April. This would allow Charles to spend some time with his new family. He was already scheduled to join Robert and Mary as they toured and documented some of the decaying estates around Yorkshire.

Before this, the staff and village must be told about the fourth Earl's bastard son. For that was how Charles thought of himself. Deep down, he felt that he was a disgrace to the family, a scandal visited upon them. It was not his fault. Indeed, it was not the fault of anyone still living, but he still felt a twinge of guilt to know the ignominy the family would be facing because of him. He'd spent his years as butler defending the honor of Downton and the Crawley family. Now, he was to be the source of their shame. Admittedly, no one had made him feel that way but himself, but Charles was worried all the same.

Rosamund had written to him several times trying to assure Charles that she was looking forward to owning him as her brother publicly. She had realized how unkind she'd been when she first learned the news and was trying to make amends for her initial rudeness.

Charles swallowed back this anxiety as he knotted his tie and looked back at his wife luxuriating in their massive bed. He wanted nothing more than to join her, but he had an errand to run. "Take your time, love, but I'll expect you to be ready to leave when I get back."

"Is Nathan meeting you at the bank?" She asked, yawning.

"No. Why should he?"

"Isn't someone going to accompany you back here with the money?" Elsie sat up and looked at him in alarm.

"I don't need an escort, love. Hull is a very safe city. Besides, no one will suspect that I'm carrying eight hundred pounds in cash." His tone said that he thought she was being ridiculous. "People will see nothing but a normal business man. I'll be carrying a briefcase into the bank and I'll be carrying that same briefcase out of the bank. I'm as likely to be making a deposit as a withdrawal."

Elsie had jumped out of bed and was beginning to dress. She muttered and cursed under her breath as she quickly selected a skirt and blouse from her wardrobe.

"What are you doing, Elsie?"

"I'm coming with you, you daft man."

"To protect me?"

She stopped to consider before answering matter-of-factually, "Yes." She sat down and began to pull on her stockings.

"You don't have to come, dear." Charles tried to reason with her. "It isn't far away. Would you feel better if I promised to take a cab home from the bank?"

"I'm almost dressed as it is," Elsie said dismissively, buckling her last shoe. "And, yes, we will be taking a cab home."

Elsie was more than a little embarrassed at her behavior. She did not like feeling this apprehensive about money, but the very idea of him walking around with that sum of cash did frighten her. She was scared for his safety. She knew, logically, that her presence would not deter thieves, but her anxiety was not about logic. Charles understood well enough to know not to tease her too much. He was honestly touched by her concern and he welcomed her joining him for the walk to the bank.

As they walked arm in arm, Charles tried to get her to chat lightly about their friends at Downton, but she was too distracted. Elsie was jumping at almost every shadow. She even scowled at a few of the rougher looking strangers on the street, which was unlike her.

"You must relax, love. We don't even have the cash yet." Charles whispered softly.

"We were fools, Charles," she said sadly. "Fools to think that money wouldn't change everything."

"I will not be making a habit of carrying this amount of cash, love. If we don't flaunt our money, no one will think us any different than before. Nothing has to change if we don't want it to." His voice was calm and reassuring, but his words did not convince her.

"I wish that were true."

"After I return this money to the estate, we can forget all about the rest of the money if that makes you happier. We'll live off of our salaries and savings. We'll be quite comfortable. I've said it before; we don't need the money. We can give it all away if you want." Charles' heart felt lighter as he considered this course of action. "It just doesn't feel the same, spending money that you haven't earned, does it? It's less satisfying somehow."

"I think that must be it." Elsie agreed. "I feel like we came into the money so easily that we're likely to lose it just as easily."

"And would that be a bad thing?"

"No." She admitted with a long overdue smile.

"Shall we return the bed?" They'd reached the bank and Charles opened the door for her.

"There's no need to overreact, love."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ They are still adjusting to the idea of the money. Thankfully, our heroes are practical people, not easily swept away by such things, but even they are susceptible to the corrupting influence of easy money. I think Elsie's paranoia is a result of this.  
**

** We'll be back in Yorkshire next! On familiar ground, surrounded by familiar faces;)**  
**Please keep the reviews flowing!**


	7. A Sort of Homecoming

After all Elsie's anxiety, the transaction at the bank had gone very smoothly and they'd returned safely to their flat. After gathering their minimal luggage, Charles and Elsie walked to the train station and boarded their train to York. As the clattering rails carried them closer to Downton, Charles' anxiety began to grow. How would the staff react to the news that Mr. Carson was Lord Grantham's half-brother? Would their friends and former coworkers feel more guarded around Charles and Elsie? Would the village folk treat them differently? How would the staff react when asked to wait on the Carsons as guests?

Charles remembered how it had been when Mr. Branson returned with Lady Sybil for Lady Mary's wedding. It had not been one of Charles' finest moments and Elsie had let him know it. Refusing to serve as valet to Mr. Branson had been one of the few things Charles and Thomas had ever agreed on. Mr. Branson had handled the difficult balance of upstairs guest and former downstairs staff well. Both the family and the staff had come to accept him, but Tom Branson is a more humble man than Charles Carson. The same proud bearing that defined Charles as a butler might make him seem arrogant as an Earl's bastard. Charles would not blame any of the staff if they thought that Charles and Elsie had put on airs.

At least Charles did not need a valet. He and Elsie had offered to take rooms at the Grantham Arms, but Cora had insisted that they were to stay in a cottage on the grounds. It was the same cottage they would have lived in if they'd remained at Downton. Robert and Cora insisted that the cottage was theirs, available to them whenever they wished to visit Downton.

The memory of when Robert first tried to give them the key to that cottage still made Charles burn. He was embarrassed of the conversation that had followed; embarrassed for himself, for Elsie and for Robert. Thankfully, the bridge they all three had thought burned on that day had been rebuilt. The connection between them now was stronger than it had ever been, but was it strong enough to weather the public scrutiny that was to come?

Elsie helplessly watched Charles growing more and more agitated. Even her hand on his arm did not have its usual calming effect. His eyes stared out the window at nothing. His brow was furrowed and his hands flexed in and out of fists constantly. He was so lost in his thoughts that she had to raise her voice to rouse him when they changed trains in York.

"I'm sorry, love." He sighed as they sipped their tea, waiting for the train that would carry them to Downton. "It's just…I'm starting to think this is a bad idea."

"Charles, it's a minor miracle that the secret isn't already out. Facing it head on is the best way to handle things. We all agreed."

"It may be the best way, but it's not going to be an easy way."

"No, but if we want to keep in touch with our friends and your family, there is no easy way."

"They're your family too." Charles pointed out. "Like it or not."

"Don't remind me." She gave an exaggerated sigh that made him laugh.

"I love you, Elsie." He said simply. "Of all the strange and unexpected things that have happened to me in the last year, learning that you loved me has been the most wonderful surprise. I don't deserve you."

"My mother said never to waste time thinking about what we deserve, good or bad, because we're never likely to get it."

"She sounds like a wise woman."

"Most of the time." Elsie agreed.

-00-

Their welcoming committee was much smaller this time, but no less enthusiastic.

"Elsie Carson!" Beryl's red head bounced towards them. Charles braced himself for another kiss, but escaped this time as the cook grabbed Elsie in a great hug. Beryl acted as though Elsie had been away for years rather than months. "I've so much to tell you."

With that, Beryl dragged Elsie towards the car talking a mile a minute. This left Tom and Charles to exchange shy nods. "Did you have a pleasant journey, Mr. Carson?"

"Tolerable, thank you, Mr. Branson. Is everything well here?"

"I am well, but I am glad you are here. For Mary's sake."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'll let you judge for yourself."

With that, the two men were caught up. Charles followed Tom to the car and strapped the luggage on the back of the car. Beryl did not pause for breath during the entire drive. Her topics ranged from the mundane to the ridiculous. Of course, she had to mention Miss O'Brien's sudden decampment. "Just up and left in the middle of the night, she did!"

This led to the story of how Anna had given Beryl the key to the store cupboard and more responsibility for ordering supplies while they sought a new housekeeper and maid. Beryl had been so distracted visiting Mr. Mason's farm with Daisy that she'd forgotten to see to an entire week's worth of meat. She'd had to have a turkey killed less than two hours before the poor bird was popped in the oven.

"I was still plucking the feathers as Daisy were stuffing it." She laughed. "I've made you a treat for tonight, Mr. Carson; one of your favorites. Shepherd's pie…with cinnamon!"

This only served to remind Charles that he was not entirely sure where he and Elsie would be dining that night. Would they be downstairs or upstairs? The look Elsie gave him showed that she was wondering exactly the same thing.

"I told you that in confidence, Beryl!" Elsie teased her friend, trying to forget the uncertainty ahead.

"And I told you that you could feed this old goat anything, Elsie, _absolutely anything_, and he would eat it." Beryl slapped Charles on the back. "Daisy told me you even liked her soap soup when I was away with my cataracts."

"I didn't like the soup, but I didn't want to hurt Mrs. Bird's feelings." The truth was he hadn't tasted anything different in the soup. His palate was more tuned to wine than to food. Charles' tastes might be refined, but he was not especially picky.

"We got the fish you sent last week. Did your friend Mr. Heaton really catch all of them himself?"

"It was a good haul and he was generous enough to give us a very good price." Charles shrugged. It was true, Nathan had given them a fine price, but he'd been well paid. What Nathan did not know was who had paid him. Charles had claimed to be ordering the fish as a favor to Mrs. Patmore and Downton, but the reality was that it was a gift from Charles and Elsie. The lion's share of Charles' January salary had bought the bounty from the sea for their friends in Yorkshire.

"Well, the staff really enjoyed it. We don't often get enough fresh fish to enjoy downstairs as well as up. The cod was wonderful and I especially liked the eel."

"I knew you would." Elsie smiled happily.

"It's hard to get reliable eel this far inland. We should order directly from your friend in future." Beryl beamed.

"Anytime you like, just ask and we'll send more your way."

"Thank you." Then Beryl gasped and changed directions suddenly. "Oh, guess who's back? You never will, so I'll tell you; Miss Braithwaite!"

"Edna?" Elsie could not help but turn towards a very red Mr. Branson who was suddenly concentrating very hard on his driving. "How ever did that come about?"

"She replied to Lady Rose's posting. She had your letter of recommendation."

"Yes, well…" Elsie started, but Beryl had already moved on to her monologue about Mr. Mason's farm. At that moment, Downton mercifully came into view.

"Thank God." Charles muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" Beryl asked.

"I'm glad it's still standing." Charles covered quickly. "I really did think it would fall down without the two of us."

Beryl became serious. "I'll not lie, it hasn't been easy. Downton has changed, Mr. Carson. I won't say it has changed for the worse, but it certainly hasn't changed for the better."

Elsie did not have time to follow up on those ominous words as the car pulled up to the back entrance. They would not have had a better reception had they arrived at the front door. The entire indoor staff were lined up in the courtyard. Even Mr. Molesley had come up from Crawley House to greet them. Charles and Elsie blushed and smiled as they descended from the car. Anna rushed forward and hugged Elsie.

"Oh, Mrs. Carson! It is wonderful to see you again. It is so wonderful to welcome you…" _home_ "…back to Downton."

Charles shook Mr. Bates' hand, then Thomas'. "I hope I find all is well with you, Mr. Bates, Mr. Barrow?"

"Very well, Mr. Carson." They answered in unison, both trying to assert their place as first and favorite. They both had so many questions they wanted to ask him, but they could wait until later.

"His Lordship hopes that you and Mrs. Carson will come upstairs and take tea with the family." Mr. Bates said cooly.

Charles and Elsie had agreed to follow the family's lead, so Charles nodded. "That still gives us a few hours to catch up before tea."

The whole company flowed into the servant's hall. Charles and Elsie were beset with questions from all sides. They answered as best as they could. Many had heard all about the Burns dinner from Mrs. Patmore and Mr. and Mrs. Bates. Beryl had given a thorough description of their flat, but people wanted to hear about it directly from them.

"Can you really just walk up on the roof anytime you like?"

"Over a warehouse?"

"Does the whole town smell like fish?"

Charles resisted the urge to ask if no one had any work to do today, but slowly, the crowd did thin out as people saw Mr. Carson getting more and more agitated. Finally, Mr. Bates shooed the last of them back to work with promises that they would be seeing the Carson's at dinner.

Only Anna, Thomas, Mr. Bates and Mr. Molesley remained behind.

"I know you are doing very well in Hull, Mr. and Mrs. Carson, but I do hope the family will try to entice you back." Anna admitted. "I'm just barely holding this circus together."

The younger woman did look a bit haggard, Elsie thought. "I'm afraid we are quite content in Hull for the time being." Elsie did not want to get Anna's hopes up.

"How is Lady Mary doing?" Charles asked Anna, thinking of what Tom had said. "She seemed to enjoy the Burns dinner."

"She did, very much, but that has been the only bright spot. It's been six months and I know Lady Grantham wants to start entertaining, but I don't think Lady Mary is in the mood for it."

"And how is Mrs. Crawley doing, Mr. Molesley?" Elsie inquired.

"Not well at all. She doesn't entertain anyone but for the occasional visit from the family or Dr. Clarkson. Most days I come up to the Abbey to try to be useful. She doesn't need me. I've been looking for other work, but times are tough out there. I feel like she's only keeping me on out of charity."

Charles was positive Mrs. Crawley had hired Molesley as butler after Mr. Matthew's death out of charity, but he bit his tongue. Mr. Molesley still rather rubbed Mr. Carson the wrong way. Charles could never fully forgive the man for getting drunk and endangering Elsie's life the night after Mr. Matthew died. Elsie had tried to remind Charles to be gentle with the man. '_Without his stupidity, who knows how long you might have waited to tell me you loved me,' _she had pointed out.

"Isn't there more than enough work at the Abbey to hire you on here?" Carson wondered.

"Yes, but His Lordship won't approve any more staff for the time being." Mr. Bates answered. "The death taxes are due and things are in a bit of confusion right now."

"Why's that?" Elsie asked.

"Mr. Crawley did not leave a will. It's unclear how much stake Lady Mary has in the estate." Thomas offered.

Elsie shook her head. "That doesn't sound like Mr. Crawley at all."

"No one expects to die so young." Mr. Bates observed sadly. "Not after surviving a war. He probably felt invincible."

The bell for the library rang and both Carsons started at the noise. Their friends laughed at them.

"Goodness! I fair jumped out of my skin," Elsie exclaimed, clutching at her heart. "I guess it doesn't take long to get used to not hearing bells all the time."

Charles was the only one not laughing. His color was pale and he looked terrified. "Are you ready for tea with the family, my love?" Elsie asked.

He swallowed a dry gulp and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

They followed Thomas up the stairs towards the green baize door they had both walked through thousands of times. Elsie thought Charles looked as though he might be sick. She paused as they reached the top of the landing so that she stood eye to eye with him. She whispered so Thomas could not hear.

"Give us a smile, Mr. Carson. They're just your family. They don't bite." He tried to smile, but it was a more a pathetic grimace. She kissed him gently and the smile improved. Elsie took her husband by both hands as they heard Thomas announce them. "Mr. and Mrs. Carson, milord."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ We are now entering the time frame of Series 4. I will be hinting at, paraphrasing or straight up plagiarizing some canon scenes or character points. Others I will be ignoring COMPLETELY. Lalalala! NEVER HAPPENED! Lalalalala! **


	8. Family Tea

"Welcome back to Downton, Carson; Mrs. Carson." Lord and Lady Grantham welcomed their guests warmly, but were careful not to be overly familiar in front of Barrow. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, My Lord. People have indeed been very welcoming." The visiting couple sat down awkwardly on the red settee opposite the Lord and Lady of the manor. Charles was surprised to see that the Dowager Countess was also present, as were Ladies Mary, Edith and Rose who sat in the chairs scattered around the library. Mr. Branson was not present. Elsie gripped Charles' hand tighter as the atmosphere around them thickened from awkward to oppressive.

Thomas left briefly to fetch the tea cart from the upstairs pantry. There was a quick, silent exchange of warmer smiles between the room's inhabitants before he returned. When the door opened to admit Barrow and the teacart, the serious coolness descended again.

"And how are things in Hull?" Edith asked, trying to help her aunt and uncle relax.

"Very well, My Lady. I am enjoying working with my Uncle Carson and Cousin Fredrick. I am learning a great deal, but I am able to use much of what I learned here at Downton. My years here have served me well." Charles answered. "You saw for yourselves how well Mrs. Carson is doing when you attended the Burns supper." His pride in Elsie shone through his nervousness.

"Yes, thank you again for inviting us." Cora smiled benevolently. "Though I fear Mrs. Patmore has been threatening us with haggis ever since. She claims that her haggis would be much better than Mrs. Kerr's."

Everyone smiled politely at the polite humor. Barrow was being excruciatingly slow with the tea.

"Lady Edith tells me you are taking Italian lessons." Lady Violet said, turning to Elsie. She was trying to sound intrigued, but her tone was more accusing.

"That is true, milady." Elsie smiled.

"Why would you want to learn _Italian_?"

"Because we are going to Italy." Elsie answered, not meaning to sound impertinent. She quickly added, "Milady."

"Yes, of course," Violet pshawed. "I suppose my first question should have been, why are you going to Italy?"

"Mr. Carson's work will take him there and we both would like to visit some of the classical sites."

"If you want classical sites, just go to the Elgin Room at the British Museum."

"The Elgin Marbles are Greek, not Italian, Mama." Robert cut in.

"Then they are even more classical. After all, the Italians just copied the Greeks." Violet allowed herself a triumphant chuckle.

Elsie tried to diffuse the building tension. "I've always wanted to travel and Mr. Carson remembered Rome so fondly from many years ago when he went as Lord Grantham's valet."

"I believe you saw more of Rome than I did, Carson." Robert joked. "I was too busy pursuing my elusive American beauty to do much sightseeing."

Elsie bit her tongue. Robert probably honestly thought Charles had spent hours of free time wandering around Rome rather than slaving away in the hotel.

"I saw enough to want to return someday." Charles smiled uncomfortably. His butler's instincts were too deeply engrained for him to feel comfortable sitting in the family's presence, but he was even more anxious under Barrow's watchful eye.

Cora saw Charles' eyes following the replacement butler and understood. Thomas had just handed Elsie her tea and everyone was served. "Barrow, you are dismissed. We'll ring if we need anything else."

"Very good, milady." Barrow bowed and left.

The instant the door closed behind Barrow, the mood in the room lightened considerably. Tea cups were set aside and forgotten as Rose, Edith and Cora all ran over to hug the beloved pair. Robert shook Charles' hand and clapped him on the back as Charles and Elsie stood to receive their proper welcome. "It is good to have you both home." He said with no touch of irony.

"It is good to be here, though a little confusing." Charles admitted. "I'm not really sure how this is meant to go."

"This is a new experience for all of us, Charles." Lady Violet assured him from where she remained seated. Using his first name did not feel as strange to her as to the others. She had spent many years calling him Charles before he became butler.

Mary stood a little behind the happy throng that surrounded Charles and Elsie. Even if Tom had not told him to pay special attention, Charles would have noted her dull demeanor from the second he walked into the room. It hurt him deeply to see her like this. She had been like this for most of his final four months at Downton, but she had seemed better at the Burns supper. He could see now that she had not improved in the two months he had been gone.

Cora sat between Charles and Elsie when everyone sat back down. She took and patted Elsie's hand and smiled at Charles. "We have a plan to end all this awkwardness."

"And start a whole new kind of awkwardness," Violet amended.

Robert, who had remained standing, ignored his mother's commentary. "We want to make the announcement at church on Sunday."

Charles' jaw dropped. Elsie knew the situation was not funny, so she bit back the hysterical laughter that threatened to escape her when she saw his expression.

"I told you," Mary sighed languidly.

"Before you make up your mind, Charles, hear me out." Robert rushed forward. "This truth is going to come out. There is no escaping that. Our plan is to show that we are not ashamed of you by being transparent and open."

"You can't get any more open than a Sunday morning announcement." Elsie agreed, earning her a shocked glare from her still reeling husband. "You said it yourself, Charles…"

"I said this was a bad idea."

"Yes, you did say that, but you also said there was no easy way to do this. Can you think of a better way to break the news than to just slap everyone in the face with it at church?" Elsie was trying to put a good spin on things, but she could still hear Lord Grantham's words, _'we are not ashamed of you'. _ As if anyone would be ashamed to be associated with Charles Carson! As upset as Elsie was, she recognized that it was not in Charles' best interest for her to be overly sensitive on his behalf.

"I've an idea." Rose leaned in with an impish smile on her face. "What about handwritten announcements?"

Everyone turned on the girl, unable to believe she would be so glib, but Charles just stared straight ahead. In his mind's eye he could see the fine stationary and elaborate calligraphy written on vellum.

_February, 12th, 1922_  
_The Earl and Countess of Grantham are safely delivered of a bastard butler brother, Charles Carson of Hull,_  
_the Dowager Countess of Grantham, Lady Rosamund Painswick and other esteemed personages of the Earl's retinue being present. _  
_The Earl and the not-so-infant butler are, God be praised, both doing well._

An even more absurd idea occurred to him. "Why not just announce it in the London Gazette and have done with it?" Charles suggested, rising to his feet in animated agitation. He paced briefly before retreating to a place beside the tea cart where he felt more comfortable.

"That option was actually discussed," Mary muttered under her breath, giving her father a dark look.

"You are not helping matters, dear." Cora admonished her.

"Please, Charles." Robert stood beside the fireplace wearing his best, _'Trust me, I know best'_ expression. "This is about protecting the family name. However the news comes out, it won't change anything for you."

"Robert!" Cora was appalled and Robert realized what he had said.

"I didn't mean it like that," Robert tried to backpedal. "Of course this changes things for you. It changes things for all of us. We are in this together."

Oddly, Charles found that he was not offended. He knew he probably should be, but he felt more relaxed. Protecting the family name was something he understood; it was familiar territory.

"This is not ideal, nor is it easy for anyone." Charles forgave Robert with a small smile. "But I cannot offer a better solution. I just wish it weren't _this_ Sunday."

"I don't think we can put it off any longer," the Earl reminded his brother.

"No, I know we can't, but…" He turned to Elsie. "It's our two month anniversary and I had hoped to share a special day with my wife. I had not thought we would make the announcement so soon upon our arrival."

"It _will_ be a special day, love." Elsie assured him, moving to him quickly and slipping her arms around him in a hug of support.

"Well, I'm glad we are agreed." Robert sipped his tea contentedly. "Rosamund is coming down tomorrow and will stand with us in church on Sunday. How do you want to handle telling the staff?"

Charles looked to Elsie. "We've discussed that." Elsie answered. "We definitely want to tell Mrs. Patmore, Anna and Mr. Bates before we tell anyone else. Perhaps we can let the others learn with the rest of the village."

"That is an excellent plan." Cora declared cheerfully, thankful that everything seemed resolved. "Now, the two of you probably need to settle in. Robert?"

"Ah, yes." Robert set down his tea and fished into his jacket pocket. He removed a key. Charles and Elsie recognized that key and remembered the contentious conversation that had occurred the first time Lord Grantham had tried to gift them with the key to their cottage. "I hope you will accept this key along with my inadequate gratitude for everything you have both done for this family. The cottage is yours so long as Downton stands.

"I know you are happy in Hull, for now, but I hope you will visit us often and that you will eventually choose to retire here on the estate near your family and those who care for you deeply."

Charles stepped away from the tea cart and stood before his brother. With a full appreciation for the weight of the moment, Charles accepted the key. "Thank you, Robert. Thank you, everyone." He handed the key to Elsie immediately.

The Dowager was beginning to complain of a draft and wiping her eyes as Thomas entered the room just ahead of Mr. Branson.

"I'm sorry that I am late," Tom rushed in, making his excuses. "I took longer with Mr. Marsh than I intended."

"That reminds me; the luncheon for the tenant farmers is next Saturday, is it not?" Cora remembered. "Do you know, I have the terrible feeling that I've double booked?"

"Don't worry. We're not having the wives." Robert said dismissively. "Edith can preside."

"I can't, I'm afraid. I'm going up to London."

"Mary then." Violet suggested.

"Me?" Mary seemed woken from a daze.

"Well, George is owner of half the estate now. Shouldn't you represent him?"

"Well, I…"

"I don't want to bother Mary." Robert interrupted. "We can talk about it later, Mama."

Mary's fleeting spark was replaced by the previous dull torpor. Tom and Charles exchanged thoughtful glances. Charles nodded imperceptibly. He could see that Mary was no better now than she had been a week after Mr. Matthew's death. He could see that Robert's attitude was overprotective. Charles could see all this, but he wasn't sure what he was to do about it.

"My Lord, Mrs. Carson and I are touched by your generosity." The formality had returned to Charles' address for Mr. Barrow's benefit. "We will leave you to finish your tea now."

"Yes, you'll want to settle in." Robert said imperiously. "I hope you have an enjoyable stay. If you need anything, you've only to ask Mr. Bates or Mr. Barrow."

"Thank you, My Lord; My Ladies; Mr. Branson." Charles bowed to each in turn as Elsie joined him. "I bid you all, good day."

With that, Charles and Elsie made their escape. Once they were alone in the stairway, Elsie grabbed her husband and kissed him.

"Whatever was that for?" Charles asked with a sweet and contented smile on his face.

"For being my brave husband and the best man that I know." She held up the key. "Shall we inspect our home away from home?"

"After you, my dear."

TBC…

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**AN/ That could have gone much worse, don't you think? **

**FYI, the announcement in Carson's head is loosely based on a Royal birth announcement in the London Gazette from 1841. Similar wording was used for Queen Elizabeth's birth in 1926, but this story predates that. I'm imagining that Carson would be fully versed in birth announcement etiquette. Though I did wonder how they would have phrased it after Matthew's death, '****_Lady Mary Crawley and baby are well. Daddy, not so much._****'**


	9. Saturday Morning Lion

**AN/ Here's a bit of T style smut for your weekend. Actual plot will have to wait.**

* * *

"Go on, open it."

"You open it."

"I think it should be you."

"We'll open it together." Charles compromised. Instead of taking the key that Elsie was offering, he guided her hand to the lock. Together, they turned the key and opened the door to their cottage.

Elsie walked in before Charles could offer to carry her over the threshold. This was not their home, she told herself, and she would not pretend that it was. Elsie removed her hat and surveyed what she could see of the cottage. She looked around the little space with a mixture of emotions. This would have been her home if they had remained at Downton.

Someone had started a fire in the grate to warm the house and the house had obviously been dusted recently. To Elsie, the cottage felt empty and sterile. There were no pictures on the walls or knickknacks on the shelves. This was not a home, but it had potential.

Elsie smiled as she saw the massive couch that dominated the small sitting room. She had chosen that couch herself almost three months ago from the spare furniture in the attics. Apparently, the Dowager Countess had shared Elsie's proclivity for large couches. This one had been banished to the attics when the new Countess of Grantham had redecorated several of the public rooms.

Charles saw the couch and Elsie's expression. "In case you are wondering, no, we cannot take that back to Hull with us."

"Then we shall have to enjoy it here." She set her bag down and went to the couch. "And I shall have to convince you of the advantages of an overlarge couch." She patted the seat beside her. Charles hurried to obey.

She nuzzled into him after he sat, working her hands beneath the layers until she found warm skin. They both needed this contact. "Are you worried about Sunday, Charles?"

"A bit. Are you?"

"Truth be told, I'm more concerned with telling Beryl, Anna and John."

"When should we do that?"

"I think we should have them to tea tomorrow. It will be best to tell them here, away from prying ears. Beryl's bound to go into some mild histrionics."

"No doubt." Charles chuckled as he leaned back into the pillows of the plush couch. "Very well, we'll invite them tonight. I can't believe how long this day feels. I'm exhausted and we've still hours until dinner."

"We've grown soft, Charles. Our short days in Hull have spoiled us." She kicked off her shoes and folded her feet up under her as she leaned more closely to him.

"Maybe just a quick nap?" Charles yawned, kicking off his own shoes. He lay down with his body taking up the full length of the couch. It was still wide enough for her to curl closely beside him.

"Mmhm." Elsie agreed. "And that's just one of the advantages of a larger couch."

-00-

Friday night dinner was uneventful. Charles and Elsie protested, but were eventually persuaded to sit in their usual seats at the head of the table.

"Just this once, mind you." Charles informed Mr. Bates.

With plans for Saturday roughed out, the couple returned to their cottage. Anna had given them the second key to the cottage and told them they would now be responsible for their own fires. Charles and Elsie cuddled close together under the duvet of the small, double bed. They were both so exhausted, they could hardly move. It had been an emotionally draining day.

"It's good to be back." Elsie sighed, starting to drift off.

"Do you wish we'd stayed?" Charles asked her with a shocking suddenness. "Do you wish we'd gone this way rather than the way we did?"

"I'll tell you what I should have told you years ago, Charles. I'll go whatever which way, so long as we are together."

"Well said, lass." Charles gave her a pinch and smoothed his hand across her backside, nestling her closer to him. "Now get some sleep, love. You're going to need it, come morning."

"Promises, promises."

-00-

They had both been exhausted by the previous day's events, but Charles had been especially stressed. Elsie awoke naturally before seven. Charles was so deep asleep that she was able to wriggle out of his embrace and explore the contents of their larder. This did not take long, as the kitchen was completely devoid of food. They were, no doubt, expected at the house this morning for breakfast.

When she returned to the bedroom, Charles was awake, but still in bed. She climbed back into bed beside him. "There's nothing to eat. So much for our usual Saturday morning lie in."

Charles gave a low growl and turned himself towards her. She giggled and swatted at him playfully. "What on earth was that?"

"Your Saturday morning lion." He waggled his eyebrows at her before noisily kissing her neck.

"That's not what I…" but then Elsie felt his hands grip her hips and decided to overlook his intentional misunderstanding. Sometimes misunderstandings could be turned to the good.

She hooked her leg over his hip and purred as he pressed himself against her. One of the things that had pleasantly surprised Elsie since marrying the love of her life was the variety of their intimacy. It wasn't just about physical positions or different locations. There were also different personalities at play. Sometimes they were hungry or sometimes they were generous. Sometimes they were frantic while other times they were calm.

This morning's personality was confident. Charles knew that the body beside him belonged to him, as his body belonged to her. He knew that he could please her and there was no doubt that she could please him.

Gentle caresses stoked their desires with sure and practiced ease as they undressed each other. The fire of their lust burned low and hot like coals in a furnace. Their synchronized breaths fell into a rhythm that sounded like the steady sighs of an efficient, steam powered machine. Their passions built slowly as their bodies moved together steadily, in a perpetual motion of give and take. Neither took more than they gave. Neither gave more than they took. Neither needed anything in this moment beyond the confines of this bed.

They each felt as though they could continue like this forever. This climax was not a fleeting peak before an ecstatic plunge, but a sustainable high. They were neither of them in a rush to the finish. They were immersed in the assured pleasure of their partner. Time disappeared as they were lost in the pulse of the machinations of their bodies. They had reached the perfect equilibrium, balanced between the building of the pressure and the release.

They thought there was nowhere higher to go. They were wrong. Fed by their caresses and whispers, the heat and the pressure continued to steadily build between them beyond the tenable. Elsie's fingernails dug into the flesh of his back, spurring him higher and unsettling their delicate balance. His deep, guttural growl was answered by her keening cry. They did not tumble or fall from a great height as they sometimes would. They simply let the motion between them dissipate with the friction until they lay exhausted and moved no more.

His arrogant chuckle broke through her pleasurable daze as they lay wrapped around each other. "Elsie, my lioness, have I mentioned lately how very much I love _weekends_?"

TBC…

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**AN/ I love reviews ****_and_**** weekends, so weekend reviews are especially valued;)**


	10. Overstepping the Mark

**AN/ Massive plagiarism abounds in this brief update. Maybe it's a good time to point out that I don't own ANY of these characters. I just take the clay Mr. Fellowes has given us and try to mold it into something Chelsie-centric that I find entertaining.**

* * *

After breakfast at the house, Elsie walked into town to buy some food; specifically tea and biscuits. She walked with a special bounce in her step as she paid some visits to her usual shops and called on some acquaintances. Elsie spent the morning answering a thousand genial questions about married life and Hull. She wondered if these same people would be so genial with her come Monday.

Charles remained behind at Downton, having agreed to help Mr. Barrow and Mr. Bates by reviewing the books with which they were both still struggling. Sometimes, he would catch himself humming happily to himself over the ledgers. He was lost in thought when someone knocked on Mr. Barrow's door.

"Mr. Branson." He stood out of instinct.

"Mr. Carson, it's good to see you behind that desk again." Tom commented as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Without preamble, he drove straight to the point. "I wondered if you had observed Mary, that is, Lady Mary yesterday?"

"She suffered a terrible tragedy."

"Of course, but it's six months now and she's no better than she was a week after he died. The only way is for her to find an interest outside of herself and I know that should be in the running of the estate."

"What does His Lordship think?"

"Lord Grantham thinks his duty is to protect Mary and her son by managing everything himself."

"And he won't listen to you on the subject?"

"He sees her as a little woman who shouldn't be troubled by anything so harsh as reality."

The two men exchanged awkward glances at this bit of familiarity. Charles focused on the important thing, helping Mary. "And even _were_ I to agree with you; how could I help?"

"Give her advice; she'd take it from you."

Charles was flattered. "What makes you say that?"

"Because she knows you only want what's best for her."

Charles bowed his head in contemplation. "I shall think on it, Mr. Branson, and do what I can. She is fortunate to have a friend such as you looking out for her."

Tom was touched by this praise from Mr. Carson. Marriage may have mellowed the old butler, but his esteem was still not bestowed lightly. Before Tom could give voice to his feelings, there was a knock on the door.

"Mr. Carson?" Anna's voice called. "The upholsterer is here. You said you could lend a hand. I'm still not entirely sure what it is he's meant to do."

"Of course I can help, Anna." Charles opened the door. "Perhaps you could help me in return."

"If there's anything I can do, you've only to ask." Anna's curiosity was piqued as she saw Mr. Branson leaving the office by the other door.

"I wanted to have a word with Lady Mary. Could you tell me where I might find her when I'm done with the upholsterer?"

"She rarely leaves her room, but for meals." Anna admitted sadly. "You might catch her in the nursery."

"Thank you. I shall look for her after I'm done with the chairs."

-00-

Charles had found Mary in her room, as Anna had suggested. He noticed she was still dressed in solid black. What he wouldn't give to see her in a touch of purple. She'd at least worn grey to his wedding and to the Burns supper. That had fooled him into thinking she was doing better. Obviously, she was not.

"What can I do for you?" She asked primly, seated before her vanity.

"Well, I'm not sure how to start, but before I do, you must know that I would only be as bold as this if I felt it was for you benefit."

"Now you're frightening me." It was an attempt at levity, which he took as a good sign.

"I don't think there is need to be frightened. It's just that I am worried about you. I notice that you still insist on deep mourning and continue to sequester yourself from everyone though so much time has passed."

"If people tell me once more that it's been six months, I may scream."

"Perhaps you should. It would be a far cry better than this catatonic malaise in which you seem stuck." Charles sounded harsher than he intended. "That is to say, your spark is missing."

"My husband is dead."

"You had a spark before you ever met Mr. Matthew; since you were a girl. I understand your grief would overshadow everything for a time, but you are not one to wallow."

Mary glared at him, but did not interrupt.

"I remember when you thought you'd lost Mr. Matthew the first time; before the war. Do you remember?" Mary nodded. "And do you remember what you said to me?"

"I said, 'you know me, Carson, I'm never down for long.' Right before I burst into tears."

"But after that cry, you were true to your word. You weren't down for long. You found the strength to accept the reality of your estrangement. You found other things to occupy your time."

"Being estranged from someone is nothing compared to losing someone to death."

"Which is why everyone has given you so much time to recover, Mary, but now it is time to rejoin the world. I believe it would help you to dedicate yourself to something beyond Master George."

"What do you suggest?" Her cold demeanor did not give him hope that she would take his advice.

"You've always been interested in Downton. Why not involve yourself more in the running of the estate?"

"Because Papa and Tom run the estate. I've been told since I was just a girl that men run the estate, I'm just a resident."

"Mr. Branson tells me he would welcome your insight."

"Papa would not."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. He wants me to concentrate on getting better."

"What does that entail?"

"I don't exactly know. I've tried to concentrate, but it doesn't seem to help much." She stared vaguely out the window. Charles thought he might be reaching her, but then her mood changed abruptly.

Mary shook her head as if to banish unwanted thoughts. She did not want to rejoin the world. She did not want to feel. When she ventured outside the numbness that surrounded her, all that awaited was pain. At the moment, she let herself feel the only emotion that she trusted herself to feel safely; anger. Mary stood indignantly. "Carson, this is my fault."

"My Lady?" Following her lead, he returned to the formal address they had employed for most of her life.

"I'm afraid I may have encouraged you to feel you have the right to address me in this way."

Charles did not know what to say, so he waited for her to continue.

"His Lordship has made a decision and I find it hard that his brother should criticize him for it."

"N..I never meant…"

"You do not seem to understand the effect Mr. Crawley's death has had on me. As for managing the estate, I wouldn't know where to start." She turned away from him, unable to see the concern in his eyes. He would wear her down if she gave him the chance.

"But Mr. Branson believes you could be very helpful, My Lady, and, as the agent, he should know."

"He's just nervous that His Lordship will retreat to his old ways and abandon all Mr. Matthew's reforms."

"And will he?"

"If he did, wouldn't you approve? And anyway, whether you approve or not, I'm sorry you feel entitled to overstep the mark. I didn't think you would abuse your connection to this family. I thought you could be trusted to know your place."

Charles felt as though he'd been slapped, but his countenance showed nothing. "My Lady."

"We're old friends," Mary tried to show contrition, but she was still not willing to accept his words. "Now we are uncle and niece, and, as I said, I'm sure this lapse is as much my fault as yours, but I suggest we don't mention it again. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for luncheon."

Moments like this, Charles saw Robert so clearly reflected in his proud and frightened daughter. Best not make the situation worse, Charles thought. He was disappointed that he could not persuade her, but tomorrow was going to be difficult enough without Mary upset with him.

He tucked his tail between his legs and retreated. He would tell Tom that he had tried. Tom's faith that Mary would listen to Charles had made him overly confident in his mission. His failure only served to drive home how much Mary needed guidance. She needed to be reminded of her strength. By the time he gripped the door handle, Charles knew that he could not give up on his stubborn and damaged niece.

He turned back before opening the door. "You're letting yourself be defeated, My Lady. I'm sorry if it's a lapse to say so, but someone has to." Unwilling to face her wrath or hurt her further, he turned and walked crisply out the door.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ I'm moving some events around in the timeline to make it work better. I hope it's not too distracting. **

**OFF TOPIC: I've rewatched most of the Carson scenes from series4 episode1 many times. Though I know I am prejudiced, I am really thinking Jim has a chance at the Emmy ™ this year. There are a wide range of scenes, upstairs and down. He gets great moments with both Mary and Elsie. It just depends if the voters favor big, scene-chewing acting, over minimalist acting. **


	11. Truth and Tapestries

Elsie returned before lunch and came up to the main house to join the staff for their meal. Anna told her that Mr. Carson was with the upholsterer in the conservatory. Elsie was surprised to hear Charles' raised voice as she approached. She rushed to the room and opened the door.

"You don't just go banging nails into a tapestry of that quality, Mr. Ellis." He was gesticulating wildly towards a roll of fabric.

"I think I know my business, Mr. Carson. That's why you hired me." The upholsterer was a large man who stood eye to eye with Charles. He was not about to back down.

"Ah! Mr. Ellis, what a pleasure to see you again." Elsie said lightly, trying to dispel the tension in the room.

"And you, Mrs. Carson. I was just trying to assure your esteemed husband that I was not butchering the fabric." The man's tone of voice did not exhibit much esteem.

"I can see that you have not been butchering any fabric." Elsie agreed as she sidled up beside Charles. She could not understand why his hackles were up over something so simple. "Anna's sent me to fetch you for luncheon, Charles."

"Am I to understand then, that the two of you will be returning to Downton?" Mr. Ellis delved unsubtly. He knew Mrs. Ellis would want details.

"We are back for a visit and to help if needed," Elsie answered. "But we will not be returning to our old roles."

"More's the pity. Don't get me wrong, Mr. and Mrs. Bates are very capable and Mr. Barrow is learning his way with the town merchants, but the two of you are missed." He shot Charles a dark look. "Most of the time."

"Thank you for saying so, Mr. Ellis. I hope I'll have time to speak to your wife tomorrow at church." Elsie lied smoothly. Mrs. Ellis was an insufferable bore. "Now come along, Charles."

"Just because I'm not butler here doesn't mean shoddy work will be accepted, Mr. Ellis." Charles reminded the man before bending to Elsie's guiding hand.

In the hallway, she turned on him immediately. "What on earth was that about?"

"He wasn't respecting the materials."

"Mr. Ellis has done work for this house for over fifteen years, Charles. Has he ever given us anything but exemplary work?"

"No," Charles admitted. "But he might try to take advantage of the new regime."

"How would producing shoddy work be to his advantage?"

Charles had no answer for this question.

"I'll ask again. What was that about?" She scrutinized his face. "What has you so out of sorts?"

Charles looked at the tips of his shoes and pouted. "I'll tell you later."

He wasn't denying it, which was a good sign, but Elsie knew enough not to press him here and now. There would be time after lunch as they prepared for their guests. "As long as you do."

-00-

"She said _what?!_" The biscuit Elsie had been about to place on a plate disintegrated in her hand as she balled it into an angry fist. "Overstepping? You're her uncle; you'd have been within your rights if you put her over your knee!"

Charles could not help but smile at that thought. "She's a bit old for that, don't you think?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't done enough when she was young." Elsie seethed. Mary had been on their side in so much of the recent turmoil, but Elsie was reminded that Mary really was just a spoiled, ego-centric…

"I said what needed to be said. Now we have to give her time to come around to the proper conclusion on her own. She usually does and she usually apologizes."

"And you _always _forgive her."

"What else should I do?" Charles shrugged. "You always forgive me."

"That's different. You never willfully hurt me."

"But I was thoughtless and selfish and cruel. Unintentionally cruel, but cruel nonetheless."

"I forgave you because I love you."

"And I love Mary, spoiled and sharp-tongued as she is."

"I don't understand you." Elsie threw up her hands and returned her concentration to preparing the plates of biscuits and sandwiches for tea.

"No. You wouldn't." He said sadly and quietly. The separation between the two people he loved most in this world was a source of disappointment to him. They weren't dissimilar in temperament, but they could not be more different in other ways. There was not a selfish or spoiled bone in Elsie's body; he had checked. Charles saw in Mary the potential to be as wonderful as Elsie. She was constantly falling short of this ideal, but Charles could not give up hope.

-00-

Beryl, Anna and John abandoned the staff to Mr. Barrow and their own devices come tea time. They were anxious to see the cottage finally occupied and would be glad for some privacy with their friends. All three suspected that the Carsons had a bit of news that they wanted to share. John thought he knew what it might be. Lord Grantham had been acting very oddly ever since the Dowager's illness and the Carson's last visit. He had even seen letters exchanged between the master and the former butler.

All three of their friends hoped very much that the news would concern the couple returning to Downton.

"Benvenuti nella nostra casetta nello Yorkshire!" Elsie welcomed their guests grandly.

"Come again?" Beryl looked at her friend as though she were having an attack of some sort.

"Welcome to our cottage in Yorkshire." Charles translated. "My wife is just showing off her Italian." As Charles had predicted, Elsie's pronunciation had improved exponentially in the last two weeks. She wasn't quite to Charles' level, but she understood what she was saying better than he did.

"I'm so glad you could all get away and join us today." Elsie beamed, ushering their friends into the cottage. It still wasn't home the way the flat in Hull was, but it was nice to have somewhere to entertain.

"That's quite a couch," John commented as he followed the ladies into the sitting room.

"Mrs. Carson believes a couch should take up at least half of a room." Charles teased as Elsie arrived with the plates of nibbles and he began to pour the tea.

"Mr. Carson forgets to take into account that he might be sleeping on said couch," Elsie retorted.

"It's a lovely couch." Charles conceded as their friends laughed.

Tea was a relaxed and easy affair as the five friends caught up on harmless gossip. Beryl was just finishing a story about a rooster that liked to chase Daisy around Mr. Mason's farm when Elsie gave Charles a meaningful look. _'Now or never,'_ the look said.

"You may have suspected that we didn't just invite you here for a simple tea." Charles began. "Mrs. Carson…that is, Elsie and I have some news to tell you all."

"Are you pregnant?" Beryl asked, looking flabbergasted.

"Don't be daft," Elsie laughed but John and Anna looked uncomfortable. Elsie was about to ask them if _they_ had some news of their own, but decided against it. If they wanted to share any good news, it was for them to decide when. If they had no news to share, it might embarrass them to admit it.

"Really, Beryl." Charles scolded. Sometimes their friend had a one track mind. "Though our news might be said to be a birth announcement of a sort."

Charles took a deep breath. "I am the natural son of the 4th Earl of Grantham," Charles declared simply. His timing could not have been worse. Beryl was just taking a sip of her tea as he made the pronouncement.

"Ruddy heck!" She gasped, inhaling some of her tea. Beryl choked and sputtered noisily.

Elsie rushed over to look after her distressed friend. When Beryl had recovered, Anna asked, "How long have you known?"

"Since Old Lady Grantham's illness." Elsie told her. "Lord Grantham will be making an announcement in church tomorrow, but we wanted you to hear thid directly from us. I know we don't have to ask you to keep our secret until tomorrow."

"Of course your secret is safe with us," Anna pledged.

"Does that make you the Earl of Grantham?" Beryl gawped at Charles as though she was about to bow to him. "You are the eldest."

"Hardly. Illegitimate children don't inherit." Mr. Bates pointed out. "No offense meant, Mr. Carson."

"None taken."

"Though there have been instances…" John began.

"This won't be one of them," Charles cut him off. "We hope things won't change too much."

"Good luck with that, Your Lordship." Beryl giggled.

"I haven't any title, Beryl," Charles glowered at her teasing.

"But you've a new nickname, Your Lordship," she smiled. "I can't wait to cook shepherd's pie for them upstairs. Old Lady Grantham will wonder what it is."

"Why would you be cooking shepherd's pie for the family?"

"Lady Grantham always tries to honor her guests by serving a favorite dish," Beryl reminded him. "You know that."

"I don't know if we will be dining upstairs. It hasn't really been discussed." Elsie admitted. "Right now, we're just focusing on getting through services tomorrow."

"Well, you can count on us to be there and stand beside you," Anna promised.

"Thank you, my dear. That will be a great comfort." Elsie patted her hand gratefully.

"Maybe this will cheer Lady Mary up," Anna said with her usual optimism.

"I doubt it will affect her much either way," Elsie answered darkly, ignoring her husband's scolding look.

The conversation turned to how things would have to change for everyone, but none of the changes seemed as frightening over tea and biscuits as they seemed in Charles' darker daydreams. Beryl saw that Charles was still unsure of things and teased him relentlessly with Lordships, sirs and miluds. Elsie would have put a stop to it, but it did seem to be lifting his spirits somewhat. Finally, duty called the three visitors back to the big house.

"Yes, we will definitely be with you tomorrow, but, unfortunately, I think we need to go now." John consulted his watch. "Thank you for a lovely tea and for trusting us."

They showed their guests to the door. "Oh, I forgot to give you this, Mr. Carson." John pulled a small letter from his pocket. "It came in the afternoon post."

"It's probably the court wondering when you want to be presented, milud." Beryl teased. Before Charles could respond, Elsie had hugged her meddlesome friend and pushed her out the door. Elsie thought Beryl might have gone a step too far.

Charles glared at the closed door for a few seconds before smiling for his concerned looking wife. "She means well, Charles."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions." He responded.

"But I feel better about tomorrow. Don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted.

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before going to retrieve the remains of tea. Charles recognized the hand on the letter. "Not this again." He grumbled lowly.

"Not what?" Elsie inquired from the sitting room.

"Oh, nothing." He scanned the letter before he crumpled up the paper and looked around for a wastebasket to throw it in. There was one in the sitting room. He tossed the letter in it and began to help his wife clear the cups and saucers.

"What was that about?"

"I told you; it's nothing." He growled stubbornly.

"It doesn't look like nothing." He would not look at her, but busied himself with a plate of sandwiches. "Charles Carson, do not make me fish that letter out of the basket."

He had to smile at her threat. It was exactly the sort of thing she would do. "It is a letter from Charlie Grigg, if you must know."

"What does he want?"

"What he always wants; money, though he doesn't say so outright." Charles said dismissively. "He says he's in trouble and wants to see me."

"Where is he?"

"Ripon, apparently."

"And will you see him?"

"No." Charles put the dishes down noisily in beside the sink.

"Why ever not?"

"Nothing good ever comes from dealing with that man. That's the end of it, Elsie. I don't want to hear that man's name spoken again!"

Elsie was about to argue with him when there was a knock on the door.

"Honestly! I thought we'd have fewer interruptions out here." She stalked to the door and pulled it open, ready to unload on the unfortunate trespasser. Her reprimand died in her throat when she saw who stood on their doorstep. "Lady Mary?"

TBC…

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**AN/ Many thanks for the follows and favorites as well as all the reviews. I had a busy weekend and did not respond to as many as I intended. ****Special shout outs to chelsietea and libbeybell for helping me with translation and characterization respectively. **


	12. Strong Enough

Elsie stood aside and gestured Mary into the cottage. The younger woman, dressed in black hesitated before gliding into the main room. She moved like a spectral spirit, not bound to the earth, but not free to leave it. Elsie felt a twinge of pity for the girl, but quickly covered it over with her anger at the woman who had insulted and hurt Charles.

Mary had just left family tea where Tom had tried to speak to her of the estate. Her father had stopped him and suggested that Mary must be tired and should go upstairs for a nap. As she floated up the stairs, she'd stopped to wonder, why she would need a nap. Her lack of energy was not due to lack of sleep, but lack of motivation. As she had as a girl, when her father failed to understand her, she knew where to turn.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I…" Mary looked Carson, pleading with him to listen to her. Seeing his usual steady countenance, free from anger, she found more confidence. "I think you know why I've come; to apologize."

Elsie held her tongue but scoffed audibly. Charles ignored her. He and Mary stood facing each other. The distance between them felt further than it ever had before.

"You have nothing to apologize for." Charles began, trying to close the distance with his words. "I pushed into your room and I spoke impertinently."

_Why could the man not just accept a simple apology?_ Elsie thought as she struggled to stay still and silent.

Mary wished he would just acknowledge her mistake. Having it dismissed as though it never happened was not the same thing as being forgiven. "I suppose you know Grandmama agrees with you."

"That doesn't surprise me," he replied very soberly. "So does this mean that you've decided to return to the land of the living? Because, if so, I'm glad."

Mary was not sure how to express what she was feeling. She shook her head as the inadequate words formed on her lips. "It means that I know I've spent too long in the land of the dead."

She looked lost and tiny. Charles didn't know what to do, so he fell back on etiquette. "We were very fond of Mr. Crawley, you know, My Lady. All of us."

"But…I…" For some reason, his matter of fact way of putting Matthew irretrievably in the past brought the present home to her. Mary began gasping painfully for air as sobs overtook her. Life was going to hurt, but the pain was better than the nothingness she'd been living in. Long ago, it seemed now, she had cried for George's sake in the nursery. But now, she cried for herself; for the part of herself she had thought buried with Matthew.

Charles moved quickly across the room, stepping around an end table to reach her. Mary folded into his arms, hiding her face with her hands against his chest. His great hand covered her shoulder and she felt warmth, love and acceptance in that embrace. It was something she had not felt since Matthew's death. She heard his love in his voice as he soothed her.

"You cry, my child, you have a good cry. That's what's needed now." His calm voice surrounded her and protected her just as his arms did. She continued to sob against him, so solid and sure. "And when you're ready, you can get to work. Because you are strong enough."

She fought to control the sobs. She wanted to prove that he was right about her; she wanted to prove that she was strong.

"You are strong enough for the task."

"But am I, Carson?" Fresh tears came as she begged him to reassure her. "That's the point. Papa doesn't seem to think so." She wiped her tears with the handkerchief he had conjured from his jacket pocket.

"Don't you owe it to Mr. Crawley to protect his work? To fight for the changes he made? To steer Downton in the right direction?"

"I know I can always count on you for a draft of self-confidence whenever I start to doubt." She started to smile. He answered with the benevolent half smile that had guided her through the roughest days of her youth.

"And you will always find one here."

She pressed the handkerchief back into his hand. She was done crying. Her tears had woken her like a brief spring shower washes away the last of winter's frost from the budding plants. "I asked you once why you were so kind to me and you said that even butlers have their favorites." He nodded at the memory.

"I didn't ask the obvious question at the time, but I'd like to know now. I think your wife would like to know as well." Mary smiled a tearful smile at Elsie, who had tried valiantly to disappear into the wallpaper in the entrance hallway. "Why me? Why was I your favorite? Is it as simple as being the firstborn?"

Charles considered, looking between his wife and his niece. "That's part of it, of course, but it is not that simple." He folded the handkerchief with ritualistic precision to buy some time.

"You were the firstborn, but you were also the first to come downstairs to seek me out. I knew I would never be a father. I knew I could never replace your father, but when you asked me questions or needed something from me…" Charles felt tears building in his eyes, but was not ashamed of them.

"I'd waited on your family and looked after people for most of my life, but they didn't need me. They desired a butler, they craved luxury and comfort. I'd been something of a mentor to your father, but I only offered small guidance here and there. But you…you were the first person in my life who I felt really needed me."

They stood for a while, feeling the weight of his words "And that was enough for you to care for me even when I was thoughtless or even cruel to you?"

"That was when you needed me most. How could I let you down?"

"You couldn't let me down. You've never let me down. I'm the one who has disappointed." A truth suddenly occurred to Mary. "You would have said those things to me even if you weren't my uncle, wouldn't you?"

"I'd like to think that is true, but we'll never know."

"I know. But I am so very grateful that you are my uncle." Mary sniffled. "Otherwise, it would be inappropriate for me to do this." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. Without any further words, she turned towards the door. Elsie and Charles watched her leave. Her head was held high and haughty, but there was a sparkle in her eye that had been missing for six months.

Charles looked at Elsie, expecting her to scold him for coddling the spoiled, blessed Lady Mary. Elsie smiled a wry smile at him and stepped away from the wall. Charles raised his eyebrows as if to ask, _'Have you nothing to say?'_

Elsie took the folded handkerchief from him and wiped a few stray tears from his face. "I still say that _she_ had the better bargain."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ Sorry it's so short, but I like this scene on its own. The church scene is not quite this subtle;) **


	13. The Big Announcement

Charles was thankful that Elsie had kept relatively quiet concerning Mary's apology and subsequent breakdown. He appreciated that it was not easy for Elsie to keep her opinion to herself. He knew he would hear it eventually, but she was giving him space and time to process the conversation himself.

Elsie still did not think that Mary properly appreciated Charles, but she had seen a promising flash of self-deprecation in the younger woman. Having witnessed the two of them together, Elsie understood that Charles was not altogether innocent. He had helped raise this girl and had not always held her accountable. Elsie recognized that he wouldn't even let Mary apologize when she was in the wrong. Elsie would be pointing this out to Charles, but not now. They had to get past the big announcement first and she also wanted to follow up with him about Grigg. His attitude towards Grigg had surprised and disappointed her. She thought of her husband as a kind and generous man. Why had he reacted so coldly to a plea from help from an old friend? It was unlike him and she would get to the bottom of it eventually.

Sunday morning dawned precisely on time, despite Charles' wishes to postpone the day. 'Time and tide waits for no man.' It was one of the only phrases he remembers from his father, the man who had raised him.

They ate breakfast with the staff in near silence. Anna and John gave Charles and Elsie encouraging smiles as Beryl made sure they had everything they wanted. She put the brown sugar on the table for the porridge, knowing how Charles liked something sweet, even so early in the morning.

Thomas commented that the family were especially quiet at breakfast. Mary had declined a tray in her room and had joined the family at table. She still wore black, but had allowed Anna to set out a lavender shawl for church.

It was a walk Charles and Elsie had taken together hundreds of times. They usually walked side by side, but now, they walked arm in arm, his hand covering hers on his arm. The church loomed ahead of them like a familiar, old friend turned into a cold, imposing stranger. Elsie had been calm outwardly all morning, but her insides were beginning to churn nervously. For her own part, she couldn't care less about how people reacted. Her true friends would stand by her and she would not lament the loss of any acquaintances who scorned her. She was worried for Charles, who was mostly worried for the family. He had voiced some of his concerns the night before.

"We can return to Hull and our life there regardless of the reception from the village. The rest of the family doesn't have that option." He had observed sadly over their late night sherry.

"They'll be fine. This isn't the dark ages. People are more realistic now. Indiscretions and infidelities happen."

He'd raised his eyebrows at her. "Still, such behavior is reprehensible."

"Of course it is, but the people involved in this indiscretion are gone. People won't judge the rest of us." She'd tried to simultaneously assure herself and him. "And, by your account, your mother and the old Earl did love one another. It was society's rules that kept them apart."

"I'm most worried that Old Lady Grantham will be humiliated. He was her husband, after all. Suppose people think he was unfaithful during their marriage?"

"Suppose people do. Suppose they think she drove him to it. Suppose they think he was as depraved as the Marquis de Sade. What can we do about it? We can't control what people think."

"Which is why I worry for her."

Elsie looked up beyond the steeple of the church and offered a silent prayer as they entered the churchyard. They passed the large new stone in the yard declaring Matthew Crawley to be a beloved husband and father. Mostly, it declared him to be dead.

Elsie had brought some flowers from Downton's hothouse. She lay a small bundle at Matthew's monument, another bundle on Sybil's stone and yet another beside William's cross. For some reason, she had felt it important to acknowledge these three lost children today.

The Carsons were still a bit of a novelty, so they were quickly surrounded and welcomed back. Those who had seen Elsie yesterday nodded triumphantly at their previously disbelieving friends. Charles shared a few moments with old Mr. Kraig, the station master, with whom he had always had a very genial working relationship. Charles took a moment to seek out Mr. Ellis and compliment his work on the chairs.

People filed into the church in an orderly fashion as the organ played. Mr. Travis never began services until the Crawley family had arrived. As the family's cars had not been spotted yet, there was no rush to leave the clear winter air for the stuffy confines of the church. As the time for the service approached, the yard emptied and the church filled. The hour rang and the family were still not present, but Mr. Travis let Mrs. Tanner keep playing her endless loop of 'Lo! He Comes With Clouds Descending.'

Finally, the Crawley's arrived and Mr. Travis invited the congregation to be seated as he began the service with a reading from the book of Jonah.

_'1__ Then Jonah prayed unto the LORD his God out of the fish's belly,  
2__ And said, I cried by reason of mine affliction unto the LORD, and he heard me; out of the belly of hell cried I, __and_ thou heardest my voice.  
3_ For thou hadst cast me into the deep, in the midst of the seas; and the floods compassed me about: all thy billows and thy waves passed over me.  
4__ Then I said, I am cast out of thy sight; yet I will look again toward thy holy temple.  
5__ The waters compassed me about, __even_ to the soul: the depth closed me round about, the weeds were wrapped about my head.  
6_ I went down to the bottoms of the mountains; the earth with her bars __was_ about me for ever: yet hast thou brought up my life from corruption, O LORD my God.  
7_ When my soul fainted within me I remembered the LORD: and my prayer came in unto thee, into thine holy temple.  
8__ They that observe lying vanities forsake their own mercy.  
9__ But I will sacrifice unto thee with the voice of thanksgiving; I will pay __that_ that I have vowed. Salvation _is_ of the LORD.  
10_ And the LORD spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land' _

Charles had never appreciated Mr. Travis more than today. The man's delivery of the scripture was languid and somber, but, best of all, his sermons were short. Longwinded in other settings, the vicar was a man of few words behind the pulpit. After an extremely uninspiring interpretation of Jonah, Mr. Travis offered a short prayer. He then broke with the usual flow of the service and called Lord Grantham to the front of the church.

Elsie gripped Charles' hand even tighter.

"I'd like to thank Mr. Travis for indulging me today." Lord Grantham began. "I have an announcement to make and it is something I feel the entire village should hear directly from me."

There were nervous murmurings throughout the church. Many merchants who depended upon the custom from Downton Abbey looked very nervous indeed. Great estates all over the country had been closing steadily over the past few years. Was Downton to be the next, they wondered?

"Be assured that this announcement is a happy one; one I feel is in keeping with today's lesson of mercy and redemption." People looked confused as they struggled to remember the sermon that had just ended. "There has been a new addition to the Crawley family, though not in the conventional way."

Many eyes in the congregation turned towards Edith, who turned red with indignation.

"We've only just learned that my father sired a son out of wedlock almost seventy years ago." You could have heard a pin drop for several moments before a rustle of whisperings filled the silence. Lord Grantham raised his voice higher. "He was young and had not yet met my mother. Despite his dissolute youth, he was eventually a faithful husband, but I make no excuses for his behavior."

The murmurings grew in volume. Some of the sharper witted of the village had already turned towards the Carsons. It could not be a coincidence that they were here or that Mr. Carson was approaching seventy years of age. Elsie felt her face turn hot under the scrutiny, but kept her eyes forward stoically.

"I am sure that we all agree that the sins of the father should not be visited upon the son, or sons. Though conceived in dishonor and born under the shade of sin, I am proud…" Robert's voice caught with emotion. "Indeed, I count myself privileged to name Charles Carson as my elder brother by my father, the fourth Earl of Grantham. My sister, my mother, my wife and my children join me as we welcome Charles and his bride into our family with open arms. My life has been better for knowing him as a trusted friend and I will be richer still as I come to know his as my brother."

Robert smiled at Carson and offered a respectful bow of his head. Charles returned the gesture.

If Mr. Travis had intended to close out the service with a hymn or benediction, he was sorely disappointed. His flock was thrown into chaos and worship was long forgotten. Mrs. Beadle was overheard exclaiming, "I knew there was something odd going on. I knew it!"

Someone, perhaps Mr. Bates, pressed a handkerchief into Elsie's hand. She blotted at her eyes as she and Charles were pulled in different directions by the hungry crowd.

They were buffeted by questions as Jonah's boat had been buffeted by the winds.

"Why didn't you say?" "When did you learn?" "Are you rich now?" "Will you move into the Abbey?" "What does that make you, Charles?" "Why ain't you Earl?" This last came from a very confused looking Daisy. She seemed unsure of how to regard Mr. Carson.

The crowd quieted and parted as Lord Grantham approached Charles. "Would you and Mrs. Carson do us the honor of joining us for luncheon today, brother?"

"The honor will be entirely ours, brother."

"Not entirely, but I won't argue with you about it. Not here." Robert laughed. The rest of the family offered happy smiles as they flowed out of the church smoothly, leaving the Carsons to deal with the towns folk. Charles finally convinced everyone to vacate the church and follow Elsie and him out into the yard.

Without the acoustics of the church, Charles had to raise his voice to be heard. "Please! Please, I will answer what I can, but I'd prefer to only do it once." The crowd stilled, but there were still pockets of excited conversation. Charles knew they would listen once he started to speak.

"When Old Lady Grantham fell ill last month, some papers left by her husband, the fourth Earl of Grantham, were opened." This was technically true. "These documents offer testimony and proof of my true parentage. These papers and my own uncle confirm that my mother naively believed that Lord Grantham would be allowed to marry her. He proposed to her and gave her a ring though, by his own admission, he had no intention of marrying her."

Angry grumbles rippled around the crowd. There were few among them that had not heard stories of such seductions. They had not expected to find it in their own esteemed, local nobility, but they were not entirely surprised.

"When she realized that he would not marry her, she broke things off with him. Unfortunately for her, I was already on my way." Most people were amused to see the usually gruff Mr. Carson speaking so flippantly of his inconvenient conception. Charles himself was astonished how easily he was able to make light of this embarrassment. Seeing how readily Robert had acknowledged him had released most of Charles' tensions. Seeing no judgment, but only curiosity, from the crowd had dissipated the last of his nerves. Robert had offered the prim and proper announcement. It was now for Charles to appease the people on a more common level.

"My father, David Carson, loved my mother and had been engaged to her before the young Lord misled her. He was glad to marry her, even knowing her condition. He was a good man and I have reason to believe they were happily married until her death."

Charles paused to let this all sink in. He held a hand out to Elsie, who took it and stood proudly beside her husband. "With this new information, it was clear that Mrs. Carson and I could not return to work for the family. We both care very deeply for everyone at Downton, upstairs and down and here in the village. We hope to retain your friendships and respect.

"We may be invited to dine at the Abbey on occasion, but we are not nobility and we do not wish to be treated as such. Our main home now is in Hull and we will make our own way, taking nothing from the estate but the cottage that our years in service would have earned us even if I were not connected to the family as I am."

This seemed to satisfy most people's curiosity. Also, it was time for lunch and people were hungry. The Downton staff had to leave to run back to the house. The village folk were placated with promises that Charles and Elsie would be in the village for several more days.

Charles and Elsie walked back towards the Abbey with lighter hearts that they could have ever imagined possible. "That went remarkably well," Elsie smiled up at him.

"No one threw tomatoes or spoke of tar or feathers."

"Who brings tomatoes to church?"

"I don't know, but then, I could never figure out why they brought them to the theatre either."

"There's a story there," Elsie laughed.

Charles nodded. "I'll tell you another day. Today, we are lunching with an Earl and two Countesses," he said in a lofty, posh accent.

"I thought we were having luncheon with your brother and his family."

"My brother," Charles said thoughtfully. "Robert's words were…I didn't expect him to call me 'brother' so easily; to say he was proud to call me such."

"He knows he's getting an excellent brother. Of course he is proud of you."

They had reached the Abbey. Habit caused their feet to turn towards the servant's entrance, but then the front door opened and their family came out to welcome them. Charles and Elsie went up the line, running the gauntlet of hugs and good wishes. Once they were inside, Charles heard a small cough behind him.

"May I take your hat and coat, sir?"

"Yes, thank you, Barrow."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ We'll still deal with some individual reactions, but there's the main reveal and response. The Crawleys and Carsons are both so well loved, I do think the village would kind of shrug their shoulders and let it pass as something that happened almost 70 years ago. The Crawley's society friends and Rosamund's London friends might not be so forgiving, but they don't really figure into this story. **


	14. Lunch with Uncle Carson

The Dowager Countess had not greeted Charles and Elsie at the door, but she smiled amiably as they entered the drawing room with the rest of the family. Robert strode to the hearth in a cocksure manner. He was very proud of his speech and had received many compliments from his wife and daughters on the ride home.

"I thought that went swimmingly, all things considered." He puffed out his chest. He rather enjoyed being the center of attention. There was something intoxicating about have the rapt attention of such a large group of people.

"You handled that very well, Robert." Lady Violet praised. "You were clear and succinct, though you did get a tad sentimental for my tastes." Robert's shoulders slumped a little. _Still,_ he thought_, there was a compliment with the insult this time. Usually, she just insults me._

"I thought it was very dignified." Charles added, before Robert could be too disappointed by his mother's criticism.

"Thank you, Charles." Robert perked up and beamed. "I hope the rabble weren't too hard on you."

"Robert!" Cora scolded.

"It was just a joke, my dear. We'd have stayed with you, but I think our presence would not have been productive."

"People were very accepting; curious but accepting."

"No doubt it has much to do with the respect people have for you, Uncle Carson." Edith observed.

Elsie had opened her mouth to agree when Mr. Bates entered the room. "Luncheon is served, milord."

They filed through to the dining room where Charles could see the signs of two place settings hastily added. He doubted that anyone else noticed, but his professional eye saw the infinitesimal inconsistencies in the distances between the plates. He saw Thomas tense up as Charles surveyed the table. Charles resolved not to do anything to embarrass or antagonize Thomas who was being astonishingly accommodating.

Though Charles and Elsie had eaten dinner with Robert and Mary in Hull, Charles was still very uncomfortable sitting at table with the family. He was resigned to get used to it. Somehow, the fact that it was luncheon made things easier. The family often entertained businessmen or tenant farmers at luncheon. Joining the family at private diner would have made him more uncomfortable; would have felt like higher stakes.

"I believe Uncle Carson said it was your anniversary today." Mary started the conversation after everyone was seated. Charles liked that the girls had settled on calling him Uncle Carson. It felt right and natural. After all, he'd been Carson to them all of their lives.

"Two months." Elsie confirmed with an exquisite smile.

"Have you anything special planned?" Rose inquired.

"No," Elsie answered as Charles said, "Yes."

"Oh?" Elsie asked him.

"It's a surprise, my dear," he winked at her playfully before remembering where he was. Charles brought his countenance under control and waited calmly as Thomas began to serve the soup.

Charles had half expected Beryl to send up stew and soda bread for lunch, just to tease him. Thankfully, she hadn't had much notice that he and Elsie would be dining at the Abbey, so she had not had time to adjust the menu. Still, as the meal progressed he was suspicious of each course until it was revealed.

"I am planning to join you for the tenant's meeting on Saturday." Mary informed her father before taking a delicate sip of her soup.

"Are you sure you are up to it?"

"If I don't start doing something, I shall go mad and take Nanny West and Master George with me."

Isobel tried to join in the levity, but Elsie saw clearly that her heart was not in it. It was clear that Isobel was not adjusting to life after losing her son. Elsie suspected this particular response might have something to do with Nanny West. The large Welshwoman had been brought in after Nanny Bunting had taken a job with the village school. Mrs. Patmore reported to Elsie that the new nanny was quite protective of young George, to the point of turning away his own grandmother whenever it suited her fancy. Elsie resolved to see if she could raise Isobel's spirits before she and Charles returned to Hull.

Luncheon passed in surprising comfort as Robert spoke of the upcoming plans to visit and photograph Kirby Hall. Mary had agreed to accompany him, but had not shown much enthusiasm until today. Charles was also planning to join them. The meal was winding down when Charles broached a subject that had been weighing on his mind since before they had arrived at Downton.

"Robert, I was hoping you might have some time for me tomorrow," Charles asked simply.

"Of course, what is it concerning?"

"Nothing too important. I don't wish to bore the ladies over lunch." Charles knew that Sunday lunch was not time or the place to discuss his repayment of the money that had been paid to his parents. He felt better after making the appointment with Robert. He felt as though he were one step closer to shedding the last vestige of his shame.

After the food was cleared, the family rose from the table as one. "If you don't mind, I think we will go downstairs to see how the staff are absorbing the news." Elsie looked to Lady Cora for permission.

"You must both consider this house your own." Cora insisted. "You may come and go as you please."

Violet and Charles looked distressed at this casual attitude, but Elsie mediated the situation expertly. "Thank you, My Lady, but after this, we shall try to stick to our cottage or the upstairs rooms unless we are invited. We wouldn't want the staff to think that we were spying on them."

"I trust you to know what would be best, Mrs. Carson, though I do hope we will soon be on more familiar terms."

"As do I, My Lady, but some changes will take more time than others."

"Will you visit with me tomorrow? I'd love to discuss the plans for Italy with you."

"I have plans to make some visits in village, but then, I would be delighted to talk with you about the trip."

-00-

Charles followed Elsie down the familiar back stairway. Many of their former coworkers stopped and gawped as the pair moved to the servant's hall. Daisy was frozen in the doorway between the kitchen and hall with a tray of freshly washed cups in her hands. Mrs. Patmore almost ran into her.

"Close your mouth or you'll catch flies, girl." Mrs. Patmore swatted at Daisy with the towel she held. This startled the girl out of her trance.

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore," Daisy bustled on, taking the clean cups to the cupboard.

Elsie smiled and silently thanked Beryl for trying to make things feel normal. "We came to offer our compliment the cooks."

"If I have enough notice next time, I can have a proper menu for you. I've always wanted to serve fish and chips at Sunday lunch." Beryl joked.

"So long as Old Lady Grantham isn't present, I don't think you'll hear any complaints," Charles smiled. His easy smile was a strange sight to most of the staff. Who was this man they all thought they had known; that many of them had even feared? Within three months, this dull and steady man had thrown over the family, had wooed and married the housekeeper and had been exposed as an illegitimate child of nobility.

Barrow came rushing down the stairs barking orders. "I beg your pardon, Mr. and Mrs. Carson, but _some of us_ have work to do."

"Of course, Mr. Barrow," Charles answered calmly, refusing to be baited by the flustered butler. "If you'd like for me to go over the wine order with you, please let me know a time that would be convenient for you this week. Mrs. Carson and I will be returning to Hull on Thursday or Friday."

Jimmy was leaning cockily against the piano. "If I discovered I was the son of an Earl, I wouldn't wipe my own nose."

"I can well imagine," Charles glared at the idle footman. "But the reality is that nothing essential has changed. I won't be getting a stipend from the family or an annuity or any such nonsense." As Charles found himself assuring himself often lately, this was technically true.

"What about the money your father left you?" Beryl piped up, wanting to prove that she knew more about this situation than anyone.

"Yes, there was some money from my father," Charles admitted grudgingly.

"Seven hundred and forty pounds!" She crowed knowingly.

Jimmy gave a low whistle. "Not enough to change your life, but it's nothing to sneeze at."

"Are you coming down with a cold, James?" Elsie asked archly.

"What? No, why do you ask?" He stood up straighter; worried that he might be looking ill.

"All this talk of wiping your nose and sneezing; I thought perhaps you were feeling unwell."

Ivy laughed at him from the kitchen. Thomas glared at everyone irritably, but had stopped barking. Charles was mindful that he and Elsie were disrupting the day's work. Even though Sundays were traditionally lighter, with large jobs like laundry postponed to Monday, people should be busy.

"We'll get out from under foot now, but if anyone needs us, you know where we are." Charles looked specifically at Daisy. "And _nothing_ has changed."

Elsie thought it odd that he would single out Daisy like that, but it had been a strange enough day without looking for trouble. Mr. Bates had brought the couple's coats and hats down to the rack beside the back door. Charles helped Elsie into her coat and shrugged into his own as she pinned her hat in place.

They were already beyond the courtyard before Elsie pulled up short. "Oh, dear, we didn't tell Beryl our plans for dinner."

"I've made arrangements for dinner, love. I shall be treating my wife to a very special anniversary dinner."

"You aren't cooking are you?" Fear was palpable in her voice, but her eyes sparkled.

"Says the pot to the kettle," Charles smiled. "No. I said special, not poisonous. Just trust me, love. Dress in something lovely and be ready to leave at seven."

"I think I can manage that."

TBC...

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**AN/ Next up, a romantic Chelsie dinner...but first; review, review, review, please.**


	15. Rotten Tomatoes

Elsie took special care with her hair that night. In the mirror, she caught Charles watching her as he used to watch her put on her hat in her office at Downton. The silly man never realized that she could see him or the soppy grin on his face. How many times had she taken just that extra second to secure her hat, knowing that she had an audience?

"Will I do, Mr. Carson?" She met his eyes in the mirror and he blushed at being caught admiring her so openly.

"Very nicely, my love." He moved forward to kiss her, but she felt like teasing him and put out an arm to stop him.

"You'll muss my hair, Charles."

He dropped his hands to his side and pouted. "Well, we mustn't have that. Your hair is safe, love. For now."

At seven sharp, they left the cottage. Charles carried a lantern as the night had already fallen. Elsie was wearing her coat with the rabbit fur collar and a simple, but elegant dress. Charles was wearing a dinner jacket with black tie beneath his heavy winter coat. It was what he often wore when they dined at Fredrick's, but it never failed to impress her how well he looked in that cut of jacket.

"Can you tell me where we're going?" Elsie felt fine enough to dine at the Ritz, but there were several nice establishments in Ripon or Thirsk.

"I'm afraid I might have over sold this evening." Charles admitted apologetically. "The Grantham Arms probably isn't what you were expecting."

Elsie's disappointment registered on her face for only a split second in the darkness, but Charles saw it. He could not get distracted from his plan, but it pained him to disappoint her for even a moment. "I told Mr. Samuels to set aside that table in the only quiet corner of the pub."

"That won't matter, Charles. The second we set foot in the village, they'll descend on us like wolves. Didn't you consider that?"

"No," was the honest answer.

"Maybe we could find a taxi to take us to Ripon," Elsie suggested.

"I didn't want to be so far from home," Charles bent down and whispered seductively into her ear. "I might not be able to control myself for an entire taxi ride."

"You may have a point, Mr. Carson." Elsie felt a delicious shiver as his hot breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. "Why do we need to go anywhere at all? I'm still full from lunch. I think I could make do with tea and chocolate biscuits."

"But it's our anniversary and I wanted to make it special."

"Being alone with you is always special, love. We will not be alone if we go to the Grantham Arms. Promise to take me somewhere nice in Thirsk or Ripon on Valentine's Day and that will be enough for me."

"Are you certain? You're not disappointed?"

"I'm a little let down, I won't lie, but it's only a two month anniversary and we've had so much else going on." She stopped walking and touched his face. Her kid gloved hand felt warm against his chin which was cold in the winter air. "I'm confident that you can make it up to me. Starting right now."

He waggled his eyebrows in response to her challenge. He set down the lantern and took her roughly in his arms. Their thick coats combined to buffer her and she found the embrace soft and cozy despite the desperate strength of his grip. She giggled as he licked his lips and stared down at her as if trying to decide where to start. Not leaving it for him to decide, she reached up and pulled his head down to her, biting his upper lip briefly before pressing her lips to his.

As they kissed, she unbuttoned his coat and slipped into the warm layer between his coat and his body. The hungry, icy air was defeated by the heat given off by him. She luxuriated in this warm cocoon that they shared as his lips elicited delightful shivers and moans from her.

"Shall we go back now?" She whispered coarsely when she found the breath.

"That depends; are you still let down?"

"Less so, but I might still need some consolation. Shall we go back?"

"As my lady wishes."

They were back at the cottage in no time even though it was more difficult for Charles to move with Elsie wrapped around him. He hung the lantern, unlocked the door and swept her over the threshold. She reached to turn on the lights, but he stopped her by grabbing her hand and kissing the inside of her wrist. He spun her back against the hard wood of the door. Wordlessly, he removed his coat and then helped her off with hers. He rested his forehead softly against hers and smiled. He slowly pulled the pin from her hat and set the hat aside on the rack.

"Close your eyes, love."

"What?"

"Close your eyes, please, love." He kissed the tip of her nose.

She complied, though she was confused. She felt him take both her hands and pull her forward. She followed, eyes still closed, with a small frown on her face. "What are you up to, Charles?"

"Open your eyes and see," he whispered.

Elsie did as he bid. Their little cottage was transformed. The couch had been turned and pushed closer to the far wall. The tiny kitchen table had been moved to the center of the sitting room. A small candelabrum sat on the table casting a soft halo of light. Also on the table were two silver domes and place settings.

"I thought we should have something more than tea and biscuits for dinner, so I had our elves whip something up." He ushered her to the table and pulled out a chair for her.

"I didn't know our cottage came with elves." She smiled up at him, enjoying the triumphant joy on his face.

"Elves, very dear friends, whatever you wish to call them."

"Beryl and Anna?"

"Daisy helped." He removed the silver domes from both plates with a well-practiced flourish. A poof of steam rose from underneath each dome to reveal a perfectly cooked squab with greens and turnips on each plate. Charles hastened to the kitchen where he left the domes and returned with the wine that he had secretly decanted earlier.

He poured both glasses of wine before he sat down opposite her. The candles were offset on the table so that they could see each other without leaning around any impediment. Charles lifted his glass and Elsie did likewise.

"To the woman who has made the last two months of my life the happiest of my life," he toasted. "To my beloved wife."

"And to my cherished husband," Elsie countered.

"To love."

"To love."

They sipped the wine with their eyes locked on each other. Charles' smile became broader still as he saw her taste the drop of wine that had lingered on her upper lip. "Are you really still full from lunch, or were you just trying to avoid the village?"

"I am famished," Elsie confessed, setting down her wine and picking up her fork and knife.

"I'm glad to hear it, because Daisy will be very disappointed if you don't enjoy your meal. Beryl let her choose the menu herself."

With food in her mouth, Elsie's only acceptable response was, "Mmm," and a tightlipped smile. Charles began to eat as well. They both had to force themselves to eat slowly and enjoy the meal. Their instincts were to wolf down the food so they could move on to other activities.

As they fell into a pattern of chewing, sipping and smiling, Elsie risked a little conversation. "You were going to tell me about tomatoes."

Charles chuckled as he swallowed the bite in his mouth. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin before speaking. Something about this dainty habit reminded Elsie of all the little things that made her love her butler so much.

"Well, I had heard of the crowds at theatres throwing rotten vegetables to express their displeasure with performances, but I thought it was apocryphal. This never happened when we were with the carnival, but when we joined the troupe I quickly learned that it was true."

He took a sip of wine as he remembered. "The first time I saw a crowd turn on an act was less than a month or so after we joined. We were in a tiny theatre in Cardiff. One of the acts featured a fellow clowning as a language professor. It poked a bit of fun at the Welsh language using a chalkboard and giving bizarre spellings to simple words. I'll bet you never knew that the word 'cat' had three 'L's, two 'D's and a 'Y' in it."

"I had no idea." Elsie smirked.

"The bit had played very well in London, but the Welsh audience was less amused."

"What a surprise."

"Yes, well, it was our second night in town and word had been spread about the act. The hall was packed and you could feel their angry energy from back stage. The chap playing the professor didn't want to go on, but the manager made him. He soldiered on, but spent most of the act hiding behind the chalkboard. They threw cabbages, rotten eggs, rotten apples and rotten tomatoes. The tomatoes were the worst. They fair exploded when they hit the chalkboard. Some of the splatters even reached the wings." Charles was laughing now as he remembered.

"I take it they cut that bit from the act."

"No. The manager posted a huge sign on the theatre defending the act and claiming the actor's artistic integrity was being attacked."

"What? Why would he do that?"

"The theatre was packed every night we were in Cardiff. We even extended our stay by a week. By the end of the two weeks, they'd devised a system for covering the stage so they could clean it faster. The oddest part was watching how the audience changed over the course of the run. The first few nights, the crowd had been livid, almost dangerous. By the end of our run, they were laughing and having fun as they pelted the stage with garbage. Even the actor was starting to find the humor in it. It had almost become a game to come up with the most interesting thing to throw at the poor sap."

"And what was the strangest thing anyone threw?" Elsie wanted very much to know.

"There were pine cones and fish, even a squid, but the funniest was when someone threw a live chicken on the last night. The actor heckled back to the crowd, 'Have you run out of rotten eggs, then?' People loved it. That night, everyone in town wanted to buy him a pint."

"Mobs are strange," Elsie observed, shaking her head and smiling.

"Did you go to theatre much growing up?" Charles asked, still chuckling.

"No. There wasn't much opportunity. Even when there was a traveling show we didn't go. My mother didn't think very highly of the sort of people it attracted. My father would sometimes attend with his buddies. I don't think the shows were designed for children and wives." Elsie's jovial mood dissipated with the thought of her father. Charles noticed the change in demeanor.

"What's wrong, love?"

"I was just remembering the fights they would have after he'd been at a show. My mother actually kicked my father out of the house once after he and his friends went to Inveraray for a show."

"Did he go against her wishes?"

"That wasn't it." Elsie stared at her plate as she pushed the last of her greens around with her fork. "He came back bragging that he'd spent time with one of the performers. Mum said that she was done being humiliated by him and she locked him out."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Elsie, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not your fault, Charles." She tried bravely to smile. She drained her wine glass. "She took him back, of course, like she always did. He even behaved himself for a little while, but…"

"But some men can't be content with what they have." Charles finished.

"And some women let them get away with it." Elsie said icily. "I lost respect for both of them over that incident. I still loved them both, but I never respected my mother again. I don't know if I ever respected my father."

"I won't make any excuses for him, but between his drinking and his…straying, I would venture to think your father was a deeply unhappy man; unhappy and weak."

"You may be right, but that's no excuse. I left home not too long after that. I was determined to never depend upon a man." She looked up at his concerned eyes and her expression softened. Her most painful memories were now his as well. It felt good to share the burden. "You foiled that plan, Charles. Almost from the moment I met you."

The food was forgotten. Charles lay down his fork and knife and reached to take her hand.

"You're wrong, Elsie. You aren't dependent upon me. You may love me and you may want me, but you don't _need_ me. You are independent and strong. Just because you've chosen to share your life with me doesn't change that." He stood up and pulled her up into his arms. "I'm sorry that your father taught you not to trust men. That makes me even more honored that you trusted me with your heart."

"I've made this a rather melancholy evening, I'm afraid," Elsie sniffed into Charles' broad, warm chest.

"Not to worry, lass. I'm not finished making up for your disappointment earlier in the evening."

"I can't believe you fooled me. I actually believed you were going to take me to the Grantham Arms. You are usually so thoughtful, I should have figured the truth the instant you said it."

"I wasn't sure if I'd fooled you. I thought you were just playing along in order to spare my feelings." He rocked gently in place, almost dancing with her as he held her close. He kissed the top of her head. "Would you like your gift now?"

"Did Rob Roy wear a kilt?"

"I'm going to say... 'yes'?"

"Yes," she nodded eagerly. "I would very much like my gift."

TBC...

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**AN/ I don't think the gift will be a huge surprise to us;)**


	16. Beauty

Charles' sense of the theatrical made him want to prolong her anticipation before revealing her gift. He also wanted to finish banishing the unpleasant memories of her father.

"Did you know that the traditional gift for second anniversaries is cotton?" He sounded like a lecturer about to start into an hour long dissertation on the subject.

"That's for two _years_, Charles. We are only at two months." While she loved him in his pedantic moods, she was impatient tonight. The wine and the way he looked in his dinner jacket made her anxious to get to the good part.

"We got a late start, love; I think we can compress things a bit."

She smiled and nodded her consent. She was not going to escape the lecture, so she played along. "Cotton you say? I hope it's a handkerchief." He wiped the last of her tears with his thumb and shook his head. He looked around the room.

"Now where did those little elves hide your gift? Ah, come with me." She followed him as he pulled her towards the couch. "Unless I am very much mistaken…" He reached under one of the couch pillows as they sat and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to her with a look of happy expectation. The envelope was too heavy to be just a card. She opened it and pulled out…

"A piece of fabric?" It was a square of bright red cotton fabric.

"Do you like it?" He grinned giddily.

"What is it? It's too thick to be a handkerchief." She was perplexed.

"It is heavy, isn't it? Almost like upholstery…" he hinted. The light dawned.

"Oh, Charles! You didn't!" She looked around frantically as if he had hidden a couch behind one of the chairs. "Is it here?"

"You could hardly expect me to carry a whole couch to Downton and back to Hull?"

Now Elsie recognized the fabric. She'd spent an afternoon with Emily window shopping for couches. They had even spoken to a salesclerk when Elsie saw the one she wanted. "How did you know?"

"Emily helped me pick it out. She said you'd love it, but, if you don't we can exchange it for the one you want. Nathan and Suzanne are overseeing the delivery tomorrow."

She squealed and covered her mouth to hide a silly smile. "Daft man, and here I've been trying to gently convince you of the advantages of a large couch."

"I have enjoyed your very persuasive arguments." He slipped an arm around her waist. She hugged her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

"Thank you, love. You won't regret it."

"How could I ever regret giving you what you ask? You know that I would give you anything in this world that is within my power, Elsie. A couch is just the tip of the iceberg." He leaned back into the plush couch and pulled her to lay across him. "I'm glad you chose red."

"Why's that?"

"You don't have to worry about spilling your port when we cuddle up in the evening."

Elsie rested her chin on his chest and looked down her nose at him. "Why would I spill my port?"

"Sometimes your clumsy husband might be so distracted by your beauty that he will grab you suddenly and make you spill it."

"That seems unlikely."

"Then let me show you." He grabbed her and rolled them both until she was underneath him. He trailed kisses slowly down her body, unfastening things as he went. At her feet, he sat up straight on the couch and pulled her feet onto his lap. He removed her shoes quickly and began caressing her feet and legs.

"Imagine coming home from a day's work and putting your feet up on our new couch. I could massage your sore feet and remove these troublesome stockings." He proceeded to do exactly what he had described. "You might be sipping your wine and I would suddenly realize that you had discovered yet another kind of beauty. Mad with lust, I might pull you towards me with no concern for the wine or anything but kissing those succulent lips." He tugged gently at her feet and she slid down the couch towards him. He crawled up the couch to lay over her. Charles kissed her, pretending to taste sweet wine on her lips. She hummed with the pleasure of his touch.

"What did you mean 'yet another kind of beauty?'"

"You hear the word 'beauty' all your life and it becomes one of those things you take for granted." Charles leaned onto one elbow and looked down on her with love in his gaze. His free hand trailed up and down her half exposed body pulling at loose ends of clothing. "When I was a youth, if someone had asked me what Beauty was, I could hardly have told them. I'd have said, 'Beauty is beautiful.' What else could it be?"

Her breathing was shallow and her eyes dark as she asked, "And if someone asked you now?"

"I would say that beauty is when my Elsie laughs and when she cries." He took the pins from her hair as he spoke. "Beauty is how she picks a piece of lint off my jacket and how she burns supper. Beauty is in a single freckle on her breast and in a tiny frown upon her face. Beauty shines in her every movement and sounds with her every word."

Her hair was loose now and he ran his fingers through it, cradling her head as he kissed her reverently, like a prince waking his princess. "Before you, Elsie, I would never have dreamed that there were so many ways for anything to be so beautiful, but you have taught me the truth about beauty."

"Which is?"

"Beauty is infinite, but it can all be found in one person. To me, Elsie, you are more than beautiful; you are Beauty itself."

Now, Elsie was crying for another reason. "And you are my beautiful, beautiful man."

That night, they made love slowly, each of them reveling in every sensation, absorbing the attentions of their partner without haste or hunger. They spent a long while on the couch, teasing and kissing; wrapped and rapt in each other. There was a brief interlude involving the raspberry mousse that Daisy had prepared as their pudding before they retired to the bedroom. In the privacy of their bedroom, their intimacy was yet another kind of Beauty. This Beauty could not exist unless it was shared.

TBC...

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**AN/ Here's a short, but sweet and sentimental chapter for your Saturday morning. I didn't want to put this with anything else. This is all about them.**

**Thoughts?**


	17. Meet Mr Grigg

**AN/ Long chapter, lots of canon (aka plagiarism). All due props to Mr. Fellowes.**

* * *

Charles and Elsie spent Monday morning visiting in the village. They placed a few small orders for the cottage, but all of their purchases were sensible. Some of the merchants seemed disappointed with the small amount of money they spent, but most accepted the fact that Charles and Elsie were not going to buy a castle and live like a Lord and Lady. Around eleven, they had to part ways. Charles would take their purchases back to the cottage on his way to his appointment with Robert and Elsie said she wanted to visit Isobel.

"Good luck with His Robertship." Elsie gave Charles a peck on the cheek as he laughed at her tongue-in-cheek title for his brother. "I'll be back by tea."

Instead of heading to Crawley House, Elsie walked briskly to the village commons to catch the next bus to Ripon. Elsie felt bad for misleading him, but she knew that he would object to her plan. She could not say why, but Elsie felt that she had to meet this Mr. Grigg.

The sky had been full of low, grey clouds threatening to snow all morning. Now, the snow floated gently down, pure and white, only to melt into the filthy gutters outside the Ripon Union Workhouse. Elsie steeled her resolve and entered. She spoke briefly with a guard who pointed her through another door towards a grizzled and beaten down looking fellow sitting in a room of similar looking men. She reached the space where he sat on a stool turning rope in claw like hands. Elsie observed him briefly before she addressed him. She could not imagine this man ever smiling, let alone singing and dancing on stage.

"Mr. Grigg?"

"Do I know you?" He glanced at her suspiciously.

"You wrote to Charlie Carson, at Downton Abbey." Grigg turned to regard her with dead eyes. "He doesn't work there anymore, but he got your letter."

"Did he send you?" The desperate hope that rushed through across his face nearly broke Elsie's heart.

"Not exactly. Well, in a way." Grigg coughed pitiably and Elsie couldn't stand to watch. She looked around at the workhouse setting. Surely Charles wouldn't want to abandon this man to such a fate. She made a decision in that moment and pulled a stool up beside Grigg.

"What did he say about me? What does he plan to do?"

"Mr. Carson is very busy. He wanted me to find out how you are." She lied. "Then I think he'll come up with a plan." She very much hoped.

"I knew it." Grigg smiled in relief through his coughing. "He said some harsh things when we last met, but we go back a long way, Charlie and me. And whatever's happened, to theatre folk like us, that means something."

"Yes, I'm sure it does." Now she had to remind her stubborn husband of it. She rose to leave.

"Are you Charlie's girl?"

"I'm his wife."

"He always did have good taste."

Elsie ignored the compliment. "I'll be in touch soon." She assured him before leaving.

Elsie filled her lungs with relatively clean air as soon as she was outside the building. She knew that if someone did not help Grigg, he would die in that workhouse and soon. Charles would regret letting such a thing happen, Elsie was sure. He would not be happy with her, but she was willing to endure his displeasure for his own, ultimate good.

Elsie considered her options as she took the short ride back to Downton. Elsie's heart dropped when she saw Charles standing on the commons as the bus pulled up. His face was as stormy as the skies. The snow accumulated on his shoulders showed that he had been standing there for some time. He stepped forward and helped her down without a word or a smile. Elsie flashed some quick smiles to acquaintances as she walked beside Charles who was stalking out of the village. He was shaking his head and his face flinched and contorted as though he were having a silent discussion. In reality, he was. In his head, he was ranting and raging.

He was frustrated and exhausted. Charles had spent almost an hour arguing with Robert about money. The Earl refused to take the eight hundred pounds. No matter how Charles insisted, Robert remained stubborn.

"Put it towards the death taxes, give it to the staff, burn it, I don't care what you do with it, Robert, just take it." He'd finally pled. Charles wanted desperately to discharge his debt to the estate. Somewhere in a dusty ledger book at Downton or in Mr. Murray's office there was a withdrawal of eight hundred pounds with no notation. The very thought irked him.

"I won't take your money, Charles. Whatever passed between our grandfather and your father sixty odd years ago has no bearing on us." Robert had insisted amiably. "In fact, I wanted to know if you and Elsie needed anything more; a stipend perhaps?"

Charles had reluctantly given up on making Robert understand that the money did have a bearing on Charles' self-respect; that it weighed down on him like an albatross around his neck. Instead, Charles had to fight for the remainder of the hour to convince Robert that he and Elsie would be quite comfortable without help from the family. It was all he could do to leave the meeting without fifty extra pounds in his wallet.

In the meeting, Charles did not mention the annuities that had been established for the girls and Master George. The children would learn of their funds on their eighteenth birthdays, or if, heaven forbid, something happened to both Charles and Elsie. He had not yet spoken to Lady Edith or Lady Mary. They would be informed of their money much sooner. He had almost confessed the true amount of his inheritance to quiet Robert, but did not want to take such rash action without speaking to Elsie.

Stressed and upset, Charles had looked for Elsie at the cottage before heading to the village. He hadn't wanted to disturb Elsie and Isobel, but he'd seen Mr. Molesley working in his father's garden and had approached the man for a chat. Mr. Molesley said he had just left Crawley House and confirmed that Mrs. Crawley had not had any visitors all day.

For a few frantic moments, Charles had feared for Elsie's safety, but then the most likely scenario occurred to him. She had gone to Ripon. She had gone to Grigg. Charles was fuming. Today had been a trial and instead of supporting him, she had undercut him.

Now they were stomping their way back to their Downton cottage. He knew he would have to speak to her, but he hardly trusted himself to remain civil. Finally, when he felt a little calmer, Charles opened the conversation. "I told you to forget this Grigg business."

Relief washed through her when he spoke. She was sure she could convince him to see reason. "I could see it had upset you. I wanted to know why."

"I'm sure, but it didn't occur to you that it might not be your concern why I was upset?"

"No, it didn't." Elsie was hurt that he didn't consider this her concern. "Well, anyway, I did it; I went to see him."

Charles stopped walking and threw his hands up in an overly dramatic gesture that usually made Elsie laugh at him, but not this time. "Don't you want to know how he is?" She demanded, starting to get upset herself.

"If I wanted to know how he is," Charles spelled out slowly as though she were stupid. "I would have answered his letter!"

"Charles, he's in the workhouse." She saw his resolve waiver at this revelation, it gave her hope. "And, in case you're wondering, it's as bad as if we were reading about it in a novel by Dickens."

Charles bristled at her bringing one of his favorite authors into the argument. "Haven't they closed the workhouses?" He blustered.

"No. They haven't. Not all of them." She was staring at him, daring him to be the compassionate man she believed him to be.

"Well, at least he is in the dry." He conceded, but this angered her more.

"If you can call it dry when there's mold in the very air that you breathe!" Elsie was astounded that he could maintain his indifference in the face of the facts. "This is a man you sang and danced with. Do you feel nothing?"

"I don't feel I should help him, no. And I will thank you not to remind me of a time in my life I prefer to forget." He started to walk again.

"We were just laughing about it last night." She reminded him, not following. "It can't have been all bad."

"But Charlie Grigg _is_ all bad. I don't want to hear anything more about this." Charles stalked off leaving her perplexed. This was not the Charles Carson she knew. There was something associated with Grigg that hurt him deeply and she would find out. She felt certain that it was for the best. Elsie turned back towards the village.

-00-

"To be honest, Mrs. Carson, I don't see that it's any of my business." Isobel's voice was hardly strong enough to leave her body.

"That's something I never thought I'd hear you say, ma'am." Elsie said gently. "A wretched man is in the workhouse and he reaches out to us for rescue."

"Well, he reached out to Carson." Isobel pointed out. "I don't see what you want me to do."

"Mrs. Crawley," Elsie still couldn't bring herself to use Isobel's given name, though the woman had offered. "I wondered if I could bring him here."

"Here?" Isobel was astonished at the thought.

"If you and I were to vouch for him to the authorities, I'm sure we could get him away from that place."

"But why here? Why not at the Abbey? Isn't he Carson's responsibility?"

"I'm sorry to say it, but Mr. Carson has turned his back on his old pal."

"I see. So you want to risk Carson's wrath by rescuing this Mr. Grigg?"

"He's a pitiful being," Elsie shook her head. There was no need to confuse Isobel by mentioning the fact that Elsie thought that helping Grigg would help Charles too. "But he's not beyond work. He's not beyond a decent life if he could find it."

Isobel struggled to form her answer. "You see, in my present state, I don't think I'm strong enough to…"

"But you are, ma'am." Elsie cut in. "If you could just set aside your grief and use that strength for another's good."

Isobel looked as though she wanted to dispute Elsie's words, but no answer came. Elsie smiled kindly at the pale woman, confident in her victory.

"May I use your phone?"

-00-

Charles and Elsie had eaten a quiet meal in their cottage of stew prepared by Charles. When she returned home, Elsie had heard the pots banging before reaching their front door. Charles was still fuming. Elsie took a short turn in the garden to give him time to cool down. As she approached the door again, the din had died down a little.

They did not even attempt small talk. Charles did not trust himself to say anything productive and Elsie did not want to provoke him. After dinner, she sat on the couch with her book, hoping he would join her, but he chose a chair.

Even though she was not acting with his blessing, she would not carry on behind his back. "Charles, I've made arrangements for Mr. Grigg to convalesce at Crawley House. I know you don't approve, but I want to be open about this."

Charles lowered his book and stared at her as though she was and exotic creature that had no place sitting on their couch in their cottage. "Charlie Grigg is going to stay with Mrs. Crawley?"

"The authorities have released him into her charge. I'm collecting him on Wednesday."

Charles was not surprised by her efficiency, but he was confused at Isobel's participation in the scheme. "But why has she agreed to this?"

"Because she's a kind woman and he is a man in need."

"I cannot believe that you are imposing on Mrs. Crawley at a time like this, when she's almost broken by grief." His voice lacked the anger of earlier; it was a hollow voice, devoid of passion. It pained Elsie to see him so hurt and resigned.

"It's _because _of her grief I'm imposing." _And because of your stubbornness._

"I don't understand you." _Why couldn't you just trust me?_

"No. You wouldn't." _I need to know why it bothers you so._

"You know my opinion on the matter, not that it will influence your actions." _Can't you just let it be?_

"Things are already in motion. Will you not see him?"

"No. This is your pet project. I can't stop you, but I will not participate." He rose with a sigh. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Elsie."

"Good night, Charles."

She gave him plenty of time for his evening ablutions before she followed. In many ways, she wished he would yell at her and fight so she could yell back. His beaten demeanor reminded her of the look in Grigg's eyes when she'd found him.

As Elsie slipped into her gown, she realized that she'd not asked how his meeting with Lord Grantham had gone. She looked over at his side of the room and saw the large wallet sitting on his dresser, still fat with banknotes. Things had obviously not gone to plan. Elsie felt badly for not having asked about his day. Maybe there was still time.

She crawled into bed beside Charles, who was facing away from her. In the small bed, her shoulder brushed his back. She knew from his breathing that he was not yet asleep.

"How did the meeting with Robert go, Charles? I'm sorry I didn't ask sooner."

"You had other things on you mind," he pouted darkly.

"And…what happened?"

"He won't take the money."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know how much it means to you." She placed her hand on his back and rubbed in tiny circles. She felt a little of the tension in his shoulders ease. "Why not give it to the hospital or the school? They're part of the estate."

"The money needs to go to the family." Charles insisted. "Don't worry about it. I'll speak to Tom Branson." He hunched his shoulders and rolled further away from her, though the little bed did not allow him to go far.

"Charles, can't we talk about Grigg."

"I'm done with him."

"You know that I only went to see him because I love you."

"You went because you agree with Robert. To you both, I'm a silly fool who can't be trusted to know my own mind."

"Why do you say that?"

"If you respected me, you'd have accepted my word regarding Grigg. Just because I can't give you an explanation to your liking, you assume that I am wrong. You assume that you are better able than I am to judge the character of a man whom you've only just met and whom I lived with for almost two years.

"You may be right most of the time, Elsie, but you are wrong in this. Charlie Grigg is a despicable human being who feeds off the of the gullible and the compassionate. I tried to spare you from being one of his marks, but you wouldn't let me. Now, you have dragged Mrs. Crawley into his web as well. On your own head, be it."

Elsie lay silently beside him absorbing his words. Should she have just let the matter be? Should she have taken Charles at his word? She understood how her actions had hurt him, but she had chosen her course and would see it through. She had no doubt that their love was strong enough to weather this storm.

Charles struggled to stay awake. He knew that as soon as he fell asleep, his body would betray him. He would turn towards her so she could nestle into his arms. No matter how much he yearned to do just that, she needed to understand the impact of the choice she had made. She had chosen someone outside of their marriage over him. She had valued the rehabilitation of an unrepentant reprobate over his express wishes. Charles hoped that he would be able to explain himself better tomorrow, but he was too upset to explain any better than he had. While he had no doubt that she loved him, for tonight, he could not see past the fact that his wife did not respect him. The thought stung him more than he had dreamed possible.

Despite his resolve to remain awake, it had been a hard day and Charles was soon snoring lightly. When Elsie heard his breathing change, she risked touching him again. She ran her hand from his shoulder down his back. At her touch, he turned towards her, offering her the opportunity to cuddle into his arms.

"I love you, Charles," she whispered.

He did not answer, but grunted in his sleep and pulled her closer to him with a sigh. Elsie drifted off to sleep knowing that things would be okay between them eventually.

TBC...

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**AN/ You knew the lovely Chelsieness could not continue forever without interruption. This is one of those rare instances where they are both wrong. Thankfully, they are confident in their love of one another.**


	18. February 14

**AN/ I would classify this chapter as T/M rating.**

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The next morning, Charles awoke first. He was neither surprised nor disappointed to find his wife snuggled warmly in his arms. This was how they should be, not at odds over a man who caused trouble wherever he went. Charles wasn't really mad at her. He knew it was her compassionate heart that had led her to seek out Grigg. Charles was just afraid that Grigg might take advantage of her kindness. And now, Mrs. Crawley had apparently vouched for the man. The thought made Charles uneasy.

Charles risked bending his neck to smell and kiss his wife's hair. He was painfully aware that it was Valentine's Day; their first Valentine's Day as a couple. He had wanted it to be special. He had planned to take her to luncheon in York, but those plans seemed as if they were from another life.

She had stirred at his kiss and wiggled closer to him. "Truce?" She asked of the top button of his pajamas.

"We aren't at war," he chuckled.

"No?"

"We just have some very strong differences of opinion. I propose that we not speak of money or workhouses for the rest of the day," he offered. She nodded. "I love you, Elsie." It had gnawed away at him ever since he had awoken to realize that he'd not said so last night.

"Thank you for that." She dared to look up at him now. She kissed the cleft in his chin. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

"And to you, love." He adjusted her in his arms so that their lips were level before giving her a gentle and lingering kiss. "Shall I make us some breakfast?"

"Does that require you to leave this bed?"

"Yes," he chuckled.

"Then I don't want breakfast." She slid her leg up the outside of his leg and pushed him over onto his back. She straddled his wide hips and began to unbutton his top.

"Suddenly, I'm not very hungry, either," he joked as he followed her example and moved the hem of her nightgown up her thighs. She raised her arms for him to slide the flimsy garment off of her. The sight of the creamy skin of her full breasts and taught belly awakened a maddening desire in him. Beneath his usual lust for her, there was his bruised ego longing to prove his worth.

He did not just desire to touch and taste her body. He longed to dominate it. He wanted to subjugate her body to his will and possess her. He wanted to reaffirm her respect for him.

Elsie saw the change in his countenance as she lowered her arms. She felt his body tense beneath her. She read his mind in his dark eyes. They had called a truce, he claimed they were not at war, but he was still an adversary. She could see that he wanted to prove himself master over her. She was willing to eventually admit that she was possibly in the wrong, but she was going to make him earn it. She considered his body as it lay beneath her. His chest was exposed and the fuzzy hair on his chest beckoned her to touch it. She scraped a fingernail from just beneath his nipple to where his hip disappeared beneath her thigh. It left an angry red mark along his torso. She had drawn first blood in their battle of wills. It was a battle she intended to lose.

Charles sucked in a quick breath between clenched teeth as he felt her scratch burn his skin. This slight pain contrasted with the gentleness of their earlier kisses and excited him. He would never hurt her, but he wanted to return the exquisite sensations that she had just given him. He'd heard rumors in the theatre that some women enjoyed a mild spanking. He pulled her down to lay flush against him and shimmied her out of her knickers. Charles gave her backside an experimental slap, barely audible in its gentleness. Elsie's eyes went wide in surprise but she squirmed pleasurably.

She nipped at his ear. "Harder," she whispered. It was now for him to be surprised. He complied, his slap causing a slight sting to his hand and her bottom this time. He rubbed his hand over the point of impact to soothe the sting. She felt a heat radiating from his touch. She moaned her pleasure as she lowered her mouth to his shoulder, teeth bared.

They explored this new facet of pleasure, walking a fine line between stimulation and pain. The remnants of yesterday's tension between them added a layer of intensity to their teasing. Soon, Charles had reached his limit. In one swift move, he spun her beneath him and freed himself from his pajamas and shorts. She gave herself to him in willing contrition. It was a concession that benefited her as well. His self-assurance returned as she let him take the lead. She heard authority in his low voice as he whispered encouragement and instructions. She obeyed his every whim gladly and enthusiastically.

"Yes, my man! Yes!" She focused on the smug look on his face as the tight coil inside her unraveled. His triumphant growl announced the culmination of this morning's session. He collapsed half on top of her with a self-satisfied smile.

-00-

"What do you say to lunch in York, love? If we catch the ten forty, we'll have plenty of time for lunch and some window gazing before catching the four fifty back."

"Do you have all of the train tables memorized?" She laughed as she plated the fresh toast.

"I might have glanced at them yesterday in hopes that we would need the information today," he admitted as he poured out her tea. Elsie kissed his temple as she placed the toast on the table and sat beside him. She was happy to see the return of his swagger.

Charles carried that swagger to the village as Elsie walked proudly on his arm. While Charles could sometimes be bewilderingly complex, in many ways, he was as uncomplicated as any other man. A successful roll in the hay had gone a long way towards healing his bruised ego.

They chatted easily on the train ride to York. She quizzed him on Italian vocabulary and he corrected her pronunciation. It was a welcome return to their usual rapport. Yesterday's disagreements and disappointments hadn't disappeared, but they were pushed to the side in honor of St. Valentine; in honor of love.

Most of the good people of York were going about their business as they would on any other day. Valentine's was hardly a bank holiday. Many of the finer restaurants in York only served dinner, but Charles knew of a restaurant that would be perfect. Robert had mentioned it as his personal favorite in York and would lunch there if business took him to the town.

The maître d'hôtel was just showing them to a table when Charles and Elsie heard a familiar voice. "Great minds think alike, it would seem." They both turned to face Robert with looks of terrified astonishment on their faces. Cora was seated at the table Robert stood beside. She smiled a demure and apologetic smile.

"Robert, leave them be."

"Of course, of course, four's a crowd," Robert chuckled. "Still, you can catch a ride home with us if you like."

Charles didn't have to look at Elsie to guess her response, but he confirmed with her any way. "I think we'll stick to the train, My Lord. We were going to walk around the town a bit after lunch."

"But so were we!"

"Robert, dear."

"Oh, fine. Enjoy your meal, you two." Robert looked crestfallen. The idea of a ride back with the Carsons had seemed lovely to him.

"Perhaps you would both join us at dinner tonight?" Cora offered, trying to cheer her husband up. "Very informal. Family only and Edith is in London."

"That would be delightful, ma'am," Elsie answered. "So long as we are not putting out Mrs. Patmore."

"She has standing orders to be prepared to add you both to our numbers so long as you are in Yorkshire." Cora said kindly. "Though, if you do have an idea of your plans, I'm sure she would appreciate as much notice as you can give. We're all still feeling our way forward with this."

"We can talk more of that this evening." Elsie agreed. "We'll leave you to your luncheon."

When they were seated, well out of eyeshot of Robert and Cora, Elsie giggled at the predicament.

"He didn't mention any plans of taking Lady Grantham out for the day," Charles said in a perplexed manner.

"Did you tell him our plans?"

"No," Charles admitted. "I'm not used to telling him my plans, but I've always known what he was up to. I could probably account for his whereabouts for meals for the last thirty years, excepting his time in Africa."

"Lady Grantham was correct; we're still feeling our way forward, Charles." She patted his knee under the table before reaching for her menu. "Now, what shall we have for luncheon?"

Charles was grateful yet again for his wife's steady head and calming influence. He relaxed at once and perused the menu in preparation for a delightful lunch and afternoon with his Elsie.

TBC...

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**AN/ RL is busy and not looking to get any less so. Therefore, I have been negligent replying to reviews, but please know that I read (drool over) every one of them.**


	19. PDA

The Carsons enjoyed a leisurely lunch which was still a novelty to them both. Eating meals without the threat of being called away to some household emergency was one of Elsie's favorite things about leaving service. She was reminded of this most at lunchtime. Breakfast had always been about eating as quickly as one could with as much dignity as one could retain; the interruption was anticipated and inevitable. Tea was catch as one can and dinner was so late in the day that most crises could be postponed to the next day. But lunch; lunch had always been the most disrupted meal of the day. It seemed to be the meal that the upstairs family did not remember that the staff partook in. Bells were common enough, but the family had even come downstairs during lunch on occasion.

The Crawleys were a uniquely accommodating family, but it had always irked Elsie when they thoughtlessly interrupted luncheon. Seeing Robert and Cora here had reminded her of all the years she'd scarfed down her lunch as though the sword of Damocles were hanging over her head; one eye on the bells and the other on her plate.

It was no surprise when Elsie saw Lord and Lady Grantham leave before Charles and Elsie had finished their meal. Charles did not see them go as his back was to the entrance, but he did see a twinkle in his wife's eye as she fought the impulse to laugh. Robert's gestures indicated that he wanted to say goodbye to the Carsons, but Cora artfully maneuvered him out the door without achieving his aim.

Robert was a good man. Elsie did have some misgivings about his choices, but his intentions were primarily honorable. It probably did not occur to him that offering Charles and Elsie a ride back to Downton would disrupt both couples' afternoon.

The meal was delightful with the only hiccup being a brief argument over pudding; Charles thought it would be romantic to share, but Elsie put the kibosh on that. "Unless you plan to share it like we shared the raspberry mousse," she teased him. Charles turned bright red and all further argument was forgotten.

After leaving the restaurant, they had several hours to roam the streets of York. They found a small park with a pond and some ducks where they occupied a bench for a while. She leaned against him as they watched businessmen rushing by and nannies herding children.

Elsie thought of all the mad activity that would be going on at Downton. The tenant farmers were lunching at the Abbey come Saturday and the final preparations would have begun today. Without realizing, she sighed wistfully at the thought.

"Do you miss the excitement of running a big house?" He asked, as if she'd spoken her thoughts aloud.

"I dunno; sometimes."

"You can be as busy as you like in Hull. Emily said her circle of friends have enough parties coming up to keep you and Suzanne on your toes until wedding season." Charles reminded her. "Is Suzanne pulling her weight in the endeavor?"

"Suzanne's taken to organizing like a duck to water," Elsie assured him as she watched an actual duck dunk his head underwater in search of water weeds. "She'll be more than ready to take the helm when I'm in Italy. I'm more of an adviser, really."

"Have you given more thought to hiring May and Colin?"

"I have. I think a change of scene will do them both a world of good, though May will argue that the beaches at St. Annes are much nicer than any to be found around Hull."

"And warmer," Charles chuckled. "But you can still only stand to be in the water a few weeks out of the year."

"I will be sure to point that out to her."

After they'd sat watching the ducks for a while longer, Charles broke their quiet reverie. "I saw a sign for a Valentine's thé dansant near the station. We won't be able to stay long, but it might be fun to stick our head in for a bit."

"Did Charles Carson just use the word 'fun'?" She sat up to look at him appraisingly. He only raised his eye brows in response.

"When did you become such a romantic?" She teased. "Fancy you noticing a sign for a dance when I missed it."

"I may have been a stranger to romance until recently, Mrs. Carson," Charles smiled. "But I've met this lovely woman who seems to bring it out of me. I think it would be very nice to have a dance with that woman on Valentine's Day."

"I think you will find that woman more than willing to share a dance with you, Mr. Carson."

-00-

The Carsons arrived at the dance hall just as the dance was beginning. The sign said the afternoon dance would run from four until seven. They had to catch the 4:50 back to Downton, but the station was less than two blocks away.

The room they entered was quite dark even in contrast to the grey day outside. The attendance was sparse and the room was still cool. Elsie knew from her limited experience that the room would warm considerably as the dance progressed.

The smell of smoky lanterns, freshly painted wood and beer reminded Charles of the theatres he'd worked in. The smell was not wholly unpleasant. They found a table near the dance floor and were seated. The band was still warming up, but that did not stop a few enthusiastic couples from dancing to the snippets of tunes they provided.

Just as Charles was wondering if this was a serve yourself setup, a waiter hurried over. "A lager for him and a claret cup for me," Elsie ordered much to her husband's surprise. In answer to his questioning look she merely said, "It's Valentine's, Mr. Carson. We can afford to live a little."

Charles did not point out that they'd already 'lived a little' at lunch with two glasses of wine each. She was obviously having a good time and that was what mattered to him. He looked around the hall and appraised the hall. The acoustics were terrible, he noted, which was not surprising as it was little more than a large living room. The balcony was quickly filling with a peanut gallery of young working class men who watched the floor below with lean and hungry looks. The waiters ran around chaotically with glasses of gin, beer and wine. Charles felt a touch of nostalgia for this kind of raucous life. It had been a hard life with hard lessons, but Elsie had been correct; it had not been all bad. For an observer of human nature like Charles, it had offered infinite subjects; from the green lads in the balcony to the more experienced ladies selling dances for tuppence. This establishment did not have the dancers, but the energy of something not quite above board lingered in the air. It was tantalizing.

Charles watch Elsie's eyes dance as they took in the room. When their drinks arrived, he paid the waiter and offered Elsie her cup. He was glad she'd ordered him a beer as the idea of mixing wine with sugar, lemon and club soda was anathema to him. The band struck up in earnest now and the floor was mobbed by eager couples. Elsie sipped her punch as she watched the dancers. It was a lively dance that she did not recognize, but looked simple enough.

Her drink was gone as the band moved on to their next song. She looked at Charles who downed the rest of his beer lustily and stood to invite her to dance. Without a word, she took his hand and followed him onto the floor. They hadn't danced since their wedding, though they talked often of visiting some of Hull's dance halls. Elsie resolved that they would frequent the dances more when the returned home. Even though they were very affectionate in private, there was something wonderful about being held by him in public. Somehow, it expanded their love beyond the personal and made it universal. No one would question that he belonged to her and she belonged to him. Like the wedding itself, every public display of affection was a declaration of their devotion to each other.

They danced several more dances and Elsie had another cup of punch before it was time for them to leave. Charles was helping Elsie into her coat when a scuffle broke out at the opposite end of the room. Not having the time or inclination to be caught up in the matter, Charles escorted Elsie quickly out a side door into an alleyway that was quickly filling with fleeing guests. Police whistles sounded as they hurried away from the scene.

"Goodness! That was exciting!" Elsie exclaimed breathlessly when they reached the train station.

Charles could only laugh at her enthusiasm and admire the flush it had brought to her cheeks, albeit aided by wine and the cold air. He wanted desperately to kiss her, but the platform was too public a place to do so properly. She saw the twinkle in his eye and knew what he was thinking. Proper or not, Elsie decided that her husband was going to kiss her on the platform for all to see. Wine may or may not have attributed to this decision.

"This has been a very enjoyable afternoon, my love. Thank you." She faced him and ran he hands up his chest, beneath the lapels of his grey suit.

"I wish I could claim the credit, but it's you that made the day special." Charles removed her hands from him and held them. He could see what she was about and knew he would not be able to resist her if he let her touch him like that.

"You are quite the charmer when you want to be, Charles." She dropped her voice and gave him her best bedroom eyes. "I've had so much fun today and it isn't over with yet." She freed one hand and caressed his face with the back of her fingers. He snatched her hand back quickly but gently.

"Mrs. Carson, I believe you are trying to cause a scene." He scolded, knowing that he was doomed if she'd really set her mind on something.

"You can avoid any scene, Charles, if you will kiss me." She laid her cards on the table.

"Here?"

"Why is kissing me here any different from kissing me in our home?"

"The audience is considerably larger here, for one."

"You kissed me at our wedding."

"That's because it was expected. It was appropriate."

"Well, I expect you to kiss me now and I think it's more than appropriate seeing as how it is Valentine's Day." She reasoned cooly. "Or shall I have to take matters into my own hands?"

The prospect of her doing just that thrilled and terrified him. "Very well, I shall kiss you." He gave in.

"Don't sound so put upon, Charles, or I will think that you don't want to kiss me," Elsie pouted. She was determined not to make this easy on him. She had given him his way this morning. It was her turn to assert her will for their mutual benefit.

"Of course I want to kiss you, I'm just mindful of what people might think."

"They might think, 'Look at that sweet couple, so clearly in love.'" Elsie argued. "Would that be so terrible?"

"They also might think, 'Look at that beautiful woman giving away kisses. I hope I'm next.'" He teased, hoping to stall her until the train arrived. It was already one minute past due. "Or they might think, 'How sweet that she'd take pity on such an undeserving old man.'"

"Then I'd better make sure they know better." She returned. "No more stalling, Mr. Carson, or I shall jump into your arms and wrap my legs around you here and now."

He could see she was not bluffing, so he gave in, reluctantly, but happily. He cupped her face in his enormous hands and delivered a delicate kiss to her lips.

"That had better just be the first course," she warned him with a smile.

Seeing that she would not be satisfied with such a chaste kiss, Charles decided his best revenge would be a kiss that made her weak in the knees. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her impossibly close to him. He lifted her up onto her toes and gave her a kiss so long and deep that they were both only brought to their senses by the steam of the train that had arrived unheeded by either of them.

"Satisfied?" He asked as he lowered her back to flat feet.

"MmHm." She replied, holding onto his arm for support. He ushered her into the nearest compartment and hoped they would remain undisturbed. He did not want to face any of the people who might have witnessed their exhibition.

Charles groaned inwardly as he felt more than saw someone else enter their compartment. He stared at two pairs of feet as a man and a woman sat down opposite them.

"Hello, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Carson," James said smugly. Despite herself, Anna laughed out loud as the Carsons looked up in simultaneous alarm.

TBC…

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**AN/ I've played with the timeline here so that the thé dansant attended by Rose, Jimmy and Anna was the same one attended by Charles and Elsie. I just couldn't resist. Our couple just can't catch a break in Yorkshire, they know too many people. And yes, Rose is in first class. She may slum it on the dance floor, but class must be preserved on the rails.  
**


	20. A Yorkshire Bear Sighting

"I don't think Charles said a word all the way back," Elsie laughed as she recounted the story to Beryl in the kitchen after dinner that evening. Charles was still upstairs with Robert and Mary finalizing plans for visiting Kirby Hall in two weeks time. "And I've never seen anyone that color of red. James was relentless, but it's a short trip. Thankfully, Lady Rose didn't give us away at dinner tonight. She didn't want to be found out either."

"But how did you not see them at the dance?"

"It was dark; that's the point of those dance halls. Besides, I only had eyes for my husband. I don't know if they saw us at the dance or not."

"As awkward as that sounds, just be thankful you weren't here for all the Valentine silliness. I've got four young people looking for love and not one happy pair between them. At least James was gone most of the day, but now he's asked Ivy to some show in York." Beryl sighed. "There's no good brewing there, mark my words. There will be tears and broken hearts before it's all done or I'm a three-legged donkey."

"We must all have our hearts broken once or twice before we're done."

"True enough, Mrs. Carson."

"Who's breaking hearts?" Charles' words were crisp, but his face was flushed and his eyelids heavy. Obviously, he'd had more brandy than he intended and Elsie knew why. Being so familiar with Robert and Mary still made him nervous. "Not that spice man again? Just say the word, Beryl, and I'll have him excommunicated or beheaded."

"Excommunicated?" Beryl laughed at the offer. "Beheaded?"

"I have some influence now that I'm royalty," he teased.

"You are nobility adjacent at best, milud." Beryl teased back. "For sure you aren't royalty. Unless you count being a royal pain in the…"

"Beryl!" Elise interrupted her friend before losing herself to laughter.

"Careful, peon," Charles warned with a stern frown that even he didn't believe. "I can still cancel your annuity."

This pushed Beryl over the edge and she cackled wildly at the joke. It had the opposite effect on Elsie. She stopped laughing immediately and gave Charles a warning look. They were not going to tell Beryl or any of the other staff about any annuities or gifts until things had settled down and the news wouldn't cause too much stir.

Charles realized his mistake and nodded to Elsie to show that he would not be repeating his mistake. His gaze cleared and he looked more or less sober. Beryl noticed nothing of what passed between them. "I've forgotten all about that man." Beryl assured Charles with a smile. "I have plenty of suitors, thank you very much." She gestured at the table before her that contained two valentines. Charles recognized one as being from himself and Elsie. He assumed the other was from Mr. Mason.

"You'll be Downton's own heartbreaker yourself, Beryl," Charles smiled playfully. "Do you still have a kiss for a friend?"

"I might have one saved up for a very good friend," Beryl answered coyly.

"Happy Valentine's day, Beryl." He leaned down, kissed her quickly and offered his cheek for a very chaste kiss. Beryl giggled and gave Elsie a wink as she returned the favor.

"And here I was hoping for one of those famous Charles Carson kisses. Everyone on the 4:50 from York was talking about it." Charles looked mortified, but had to admit defeat as the two women dissolved into laughter.

"Having a late night, Mrs. Patmore?" Thomas' voice interrupted the moment of mirth.

"As you see, Mr. Barrow," Mrs. Patmore volleyed back. "Just having a chat with His Lordship's brother and sister-in-law. Unless you'd like to kick them out of _my_ kitchen?"

Thomas turned away and headed to his office muttering something about 'bloody tourists'.

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that, Beryl," Charles frowned. "We're trying not to make a big deal out of our new situation."

"I beg your pardon, Charles, but it is a big deal, whether you wish it or not." Her words seemed to be like a bucket of cold water on his happy spirit.

"Please just go easy on Mr. Barrow, Beryl. Being butler so young isn't easy."

"It was for you," Beryl reminded him.

"No. It wasn't. I just hid it better than Barrow."

Sensing the downturn in his mood, Elsie thought it best that they get home. "Though I hate to admit it, Mr. Barrow does have a point. You'll have an early day tomorrow, as you always do." She rose and hugged Beryl as the cook stood with her. "Both you and Lady Grantham know which meals we'll be dining with the family for the remainder of our stay."

"You're welcome to eat with us for any of the other meals." Beryl reminded her.

"I think it's best to stay out from under foot this go round. I'm sure we'll join you for more meals on our next visit as things settle down. We're far more comfortable eating with the staff than with the family." Elsie assured her. "When Charles is out photographing old houses with His Lordship, I'll come stay in Yorkshire and we'll have tea, just the two of us."

Beryl followed them to the back door and locked the door behind them. The clouds had disappeared and moon was a few days past full. A blue light blanketed the grounds, highlighting the patches of frost and snow that remained after the light precipitation from the day before. Blades of grass crunched under their steps as they walked to their cottage.

"You aren't going to become melancholy now, are you?" She asked when the silence was too much. She stroked his arm to bring him out of his funk. "Because there's no need, love. You know Beryl was just having a bit of fun with you."

"Hm? Oh, no, I'm sorry, love," Charles seemed to wake from a daze. "I had a little too much brandy."

"I noticed." She said kindly.

"Maybe I should take up cigars to keep from drinking so much."

"Please don't. I love the smell of the cigars and the smoke, but once it's in your clothes, it's terrible." Elsie grimaced at the thought of him altering his signature scent. "It will get better. It's no small thing going against a lifetime of training, Charles, but if anyone can navigate this road, it's you."

"Do you think so?" He perked up a little at the compliment.

"You've always had more class than most of the lot upstairs. They're just people, Charles, the same as you and me. You need to believe that you belong there and everyone else will believe it too."

"Thank you, love." Charles smiled down at her. "But you belong there too. You can't always go running to the kitchens as soon as the Ladies go through."

"I know. It's easier when Mrs. Crawley and Tom are there. Tonight it was just Lady Grantham, Lady Rose and I until I made my escape."

"It will get easier; for both of us." Charles comforted her. "It has to."

-00-

The next morning, Charles awoke with a splitting headache. He groaned as he turned his head to look for Elsie. Her side of the bed was empty. Charles sat up to rise, but lay back down immediately. Knowing she would have looked after him, he turned to his bedside table and found the headache powder and glass of water she'd left.

He could not remember much of what happened after they'd reached the cottage, but his sore muscles and the fact that he could not find his undershorts told him plenty. The sound of Elsie whistling happily in the kitchen told him even more.

Charles drank his medicine and grabbed his robe before shuffling to the bathroom. When he emerged, he looked almost human. Still wearing only his robe, he shuffled into the kitchen. "Good morning, love."

"Good morning, Charles, how are you feeling?" Elsie set a large plate of half burnt, greasy sausages and runny scrambled eggs in front of him.

"Like my head is being stepped on by an elephant," he grumbled as he tucked into his breakfast with gusto. "But it's my own fault."

"Thankfully it didn't slow you down last night," she quipped with a satisfied look.

Slowly, details from their nocturnal activities percolated through his brain. He smiled back at her proudly, but he was suddenly glad there was a table cloth on the table this morning when there never had been before. Charles was wiping the last of his breakfast from his plate with a corner of toast when there was a sharp rap on the door.

"You must be joking," he grumbled.

"You'd best move, Charles."

"Why should I?"

"You are hardly dressed to receive visitors."

"This is our home and I shouldn't be forced to dress before I want to," Charles declared stubbornly.

"Hello?" Mrs. Crawley's voice sounded through the key hole.

Elsie did not have time to coddle him this morning no matter how infuriatingly adorable he was being. Their truce was officially over and she was going to use every advantage to shame him into helping with Grigg. "Well, if you want Mrs. Crawley to know you can't find your undershorts, then, by all means, stay right there." She moved quickly to the door to open it. Elsie was ushering Isobel into the sitting room when she heard a door slam.

"What was that?" Isobel asked.

"That was the fabled Yorkshire bear."

"Is it always so shy of strangers?" Isobel asked with a wry smile. It was a pitiful smile, but it was a start.

"Not always, but it can be rather irritable after hibernation."

A low growl of consternation from the bedroom told Elsie that Charles was hearing every word.

"I am sorry to barge in, but I wanted to make sure everything was settled for you collecting Mr. Grigg today."

"As far as I am aware. He'll be released from the workhouse at eleven." Elsie went into professional mode. "I'll take the bus to Ripon and a taxi back. We should arrive at Crawley House in time for lunch."

"We will be ready for him." Isobel confirmed. "I won't impose any further. I'll leave you to face the bear. I'm going to the Abbey now to visit with little George."

"I will see you this afternoon." Elsie bid Isobel adieu.

Charles came tripping out of the bedroom trying to put his shoes on as he emerged. "Has she gone?"

"Yes, she's gone to visit her grandson, Charles."

"Hmph. I'll wait for her out front then." He slung on his coat after tying his shoe.

"Why do you want to speak to her?"

"I want to be sure that she has been properly warned before she opens her home to that man." Charles grumbled as he crammed his hat onto his head. He did not wait for Elsie's answer, which probably saved them both several days of angry silence.

Charles did not have to wait out front for long before a perturbed and stunned Isobel exited the front door.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crawley. I'm sorry I missed you earlier. I thought you were visiting the nursery."

"Yes, I wanted to see Master George, but I'm afraid Nanny West didn't think it a good time."

It seemed odd to Charles that Isobel would let herself be rebuffed by a nanny, but he would not be distracted from his goal.

"Mrs. Crawley, I wanted to speak to you about offering shelter to Mr. Grigg."

"Yes, he's arriving this afternoon."

"Only I should hate to feel that you were doing this out of consideration for me. Mr. Grigg is perfectly capable of managing his own affairs."

"Not very successfully if he ends up in the workhouse."

"I just don't want you to waste your energy and kindness on an unworthy recipient. Not at such a time."

"I understand, but you see, Carson, I'd almost forgotten I had either energy or kindness in me. So that's something, isn't it?"

Charles could not argue with her optimism. Even thinking of helping Grigg did seem to have invigorated the grieving mother. This might be the right thing for Mrs. Crawley, but it was still not something Charles wanted to be part of. He only hoped that Grigg would prove worthy of Elsie and Isobel's efforts.

TBC...

* * *

**AN/ Thank you for reading and reviewing. The answer to all your lovely inquiries as to how I'm going to spin Grigg/ Alice will begin in the next chapter...**


	21. Not So Cheerful Charlies

The taxi ride from Ripon was cold and silent. The only sound beyond the car engine was Grigg's incessant cough. Elsie wanted to ask so many questions of Grigg, but it was not a conversation she cared to have the taxi driver be privy to.

When they reached Crawley House, Elsie was out of the cab and around to the door before Grigg could even start to descend. She gave him a hand down and paid the driver as Grigg stood patiently waiting. With Grigg leaning heavily on her arm, Elsie rounded the corner to see Isobel coming out from the entrance to Crawley House.

Grigg tipped his cap as Isobel greeted him.

"Come in, Mr. Grigg. Mrs. Carson has told me all about you."

Elsie smiled warmly to see the light in Isobel's eyes. There was a vitality Elsie had not seen in the woman since Mr. Matthew's death.

"Thank you, Mrs. Crawley."

Grigg walked into Crawley House, removed his cap and looked around expectantly. Mr. Molesley stood in the corner of the entry way eyeing the visitor suspiciously.

"I was…I was wondering if Charlie might be here; Charlie Carson?" He directed this last towards Mrs. Crawley, but it was Elsie who answered.

"No. Mr. Carson's very busy, but I'll tell him that you've arrived safely."

"But he does know that I'm coming here?"

"We talked of if this morning." Isobel took Grigg's hand and continued the charade Elsie had started. "Now I've run a bath and dug out some clean clothes from the missionary barrel. They should fit you at least until we can find something better."

"You're very kind," Grigg wheezed as he climbed the stairs, led by the housemaid.

"Nonsense, it's the least I can do."

Elsie watched how vibrant Isobel had become even with this little bit of exertion.

"While I'm sorting him out I wonder if you'd look into the kitchen and tell Mrs. Field that he's arrived and to put his luncheon on a tray." Isobel addressed Elsie as if she was a nurse at the hospital, but Elsie didn't mind. "I think he should stay in bed today and then we can see where we are."

"He's right, you're very kind." Elsie praised her softly.

"No. No." Isobel said dismissively. She looked comfortable in her familiar role as benevolent provider. "We must all do what we can."

Elsie wished her husband felt the same.

-00-

When she returned to their cottage, she found Charles sitting at the kitchen table with ledgers all around him.

"Is your headache gone, love?" She asked, running her hands along his shoulders to his arms.

"The one from this morning is gone, so I thought I'd start on a new one." Apparently, he was still in a dark mood.

"Don't tell me Mr. Bates and Mr. Barrow have made such a mess of the ledgers that you must fix them. They can't keep relying on you."

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing like that. Tom was here trying to help me find a way to distribute the eight hundred pounds around the estate. If we use forty pounds here for an improvement and fifty pounds there, it won't be so obvious and people won't ask questions."

"Has His Lordship agreed to take the money then?" This was excellent news. If the stress of the money was removed, she had a better chance of convincing him to see Grigg.

"No, but Tom thinks he has."

"You lied to Tom?" Elsie was aghast. "He's sure to find out the truth."

"I told him that Robert doesn't want the matter discussed because it's embarrassing to me."

"But you're a terrible liar." She reminded him.

"But Tom always thinks the best of everyone and would never even dream that I would lie to him. He's probably the only person I could lie to and get away with it."

"That makes it even worse," Elsie admonished him.

Charles knew she was right. He was taking the coward's way and putting Tom in the middle. He wished that he could think of another way, but he couldn't. The money came from the estate and must return to the estate. It was the only way to balance his own personal ledger. His head began to pound with pain again.

"Did you enjoy lunch with your new best friend?" Charles asked irritably, in an attempt to change the subject.

"Isobel is not my new best friend," Elsie corrected him. "Though I think we might get on very well in future."

"I meant Grigg."

Choosing to ignore the sarcastic undertones, Elsie answered lightly. "He ate his luncheon in his room. Dr. Clarkson is due to check on him tomorrow. His cough sounds terrible."

"You do remember that he's an actor?"

"If he made his skin that shade of grey on purpose, he's a very good actor." She sat down at the table and looked across at Charles, who wasn't looking too well himself. "Did you eat lunch?"

"I've been too busy."

"Let me make you something," she offered.

"I'll wait for tea."

"Are we expecting anyone?"

"Not today, but I thought Mary and Tom and the children might visit tomorrow. We leave on Friday and I haven't gotten to see much of the children."

Elsie knew that Charles missed sneaking up to the nursery to check on the wee ones.

"We can ask at dinner tonight. Be warned, the Dowager isn't coming, so Beryl has threatened to serve one of your favorites."

Elsie watched Charles chuckle as he made a notation in his notebook. He'd almost found a home for all of the money and was quite pleased. Elsie took a calculated risk.

"He was asking about you again."

"Who?"

"Who else?"

"Oh. What did you say?"

"That you were busy."

"That's true enough."

"He seems keen to see you."

"I'm sure he is."

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

"I've always been stubborn. Why are you surprised this time?"

"Because the man I know and love is more compassionate that you've been towards Mr. Grigg."

"Unlike you, my compassion has its limits. Charlie Grigg is beyond that limit."

"What exactly did he do?"

"You really have to ask? The last time he was here, he was hiding from the authorities and blackmailed me into helping him. If he doesn't steal Mrs. Crawley's silverware, I would consider his visit a triumph."

"If you are so afraid of what he might do, why did you let her take him in?"

"Because I don't control Mrs. Crawley. I don't even control my own wife." Charles answered bitterly. "Also, I've asked Mr. Molesley to keep an eye on him and I've told Dr. Clarkson about his past."

"You've asked the men to keep an eye out for the wellbeing of the helpless women?" Elsie seethed as she contemplated his interference.

"You know that's not how I see it, but I could hardly let a con man move into Crawley House without taking some precautions."

"Don't you think Mrs. Crawley can handle things?"

"What precautions has she taken?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is she locking him into his room at night, or does he have free range of the house?"

"I…I don't know."

"What's to stop him from running off in the middle of the night and leaving the two of you to answer to the authorities on his behalf?"

"He's in such poor health I don't think he'd get very far."

"It's surprising how far one can get and how quickly one can recover with some money in one's pocket."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Oh, you know him so well then?"

"No, but…"

"But he was once a friend of mine? Is that all the credentials you require?"

"No, but…" But Elsie couldn't think of anything to say.

"The one thing I am confident of is that he is not violent. Otherwise, I would never have allowed either of you to put yourselves in his power."

"In his power? You make him sound like some terrible villain."

"Villain is too strong a word, but he is a remorseless narcissist. He deceives people and does not consider the consequences. You and Mrs. Crawley are intelligent enough not be hurt by him, I hope, but by helping him, you will be empowering him to prey on whomever he may deceive hereafter. I have enough guilt associated with Charlie Grigg to last a lifetime. I don't need any more."

"Guilt?"

Charles stood up and threw down his pencil. "I'm done talking about him, Elsie. I respect that you are only doing what you think best, but leave me out of it." He strode to the door and pulled on his coat.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going for a walk."

"And what do I tell him when he keeps asking for you?"

"Tell him the truth. Tell him I don't care to see him and I don't care what happens to him."

TBC...

* * *

**AN/ I know Molesley wasn't at Isobel's in canon, but he's working for her in my version and it really bugged me that they would bring this strange man into Crawley House where there was presumably only Isobel, the maid and the cook (Mrs. Fields)**.


	22. A Pleasant Surprise

**AN/ As a thank you for all your wonderful reviews, here's a second chapter for the day...**

* * *

When Charles had cooled down, he returned to the cottage for tea. He hoped to enjoy a civil meal with his wife. He found a note from Elsie, _'Gone for tea with Anna and Beryl. Sandwiches on the table.'_

Charles knew that she was upset with him and didn't want to face him right now. She had every right to be disappointed with him. He should be supporting her philanthropy, but he couldn't. She just didn't understand his history with Grigg. He wasn't sure he wanted her to understand. He wasn't proud of those years in his life.

Charles filled the electric kettle Elsie had bought in town on Monday. This was a bit of technology that he rather liked. He sighed as he prepared the tea pot for the hot water. It would seem that the honeymoon was over. It wasn't surprising; he was stubborn and she was fiery. He couldn't expect every day to be filled with wine and dancing and love making. They would both need their space sometimes, but that was acceptable as long they found their way back to each other in the end.

Realizing he was quite hungry, Charles removed the towel from the plate on the table. She'd made enough sandwiches to feed an army. She'd even cut the crusts off, and cut them into triangles like Mrs. Patmore did for the upstairs tea.

"Very posh," he chuckled as he popped a tiny sandwich into his mouth. He could picture her preparing this mountain of sandwiches while muttering to herself about her 'daft man'.

The kettle had begun to whistle so Charles flipped the switch and poured the pot half full of boiling water to let the leaves steep. He heard voices outside just before he heard the knock. "Uncle Carson?" Mary's voice called.

Charles sprang to the door and pulled it open. Mary, George, Tom and Sybbie were on his doorstep. "Come in, come in!" Charles beamed. His black mood from earlier was pushed aside as Sybbie squealed in delight. "You've not forgotten me, my girl?"

"No child forgets that voice," Mary declared as she swept into the sitting room.

"Or the eyebrows," Tom added as his daughter grew more agitated. "Can I help with the tea? I think you might soon have your hands full."

Charles accepted the eager youngster as Sybbie practically jumped into his arms. He treated her to an impressive display of eyebrow gymnastics. "Gently," he warned as she reached up to grab one. "Those are attached to my face, love.

"I had just wet the leaves when you knocked. There's milk in the icebox, though we don't have any ice." With a nod, he showed Tom where the tea cups were located. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"I was downstairs and ran into Mrs. Carson," Tom explained. "She said you might be up for some company for tea and that you would love to see the children."

"We had discussed inviting you all to tea tomorrow." Charles was touched that Elsie had offered him this olive branch. It explained the large number of sandwiches she'd prepared. Her running into Mr. Branson had not been a coincidence. She was upset with him, but she couldn't pass up an opportunity to do something sweet for him. She probably thought she was softening him up. She might be right.

"We'll be back tomorrow as well, if you'll have us," Mary assured him. "I'd like for Auntie Elsie to get some time with George. I'm sure she'll be a big help to Mama when I'm away with you and Papa in a few weeks. Not that I want to presume…"

"Nonsense, I'm sure Auntie Elsie will be happy to spend time with them when we're away." Charles couldn't wait for Elsie to hear Mary call her Auntie Elsie.

Tea was a wonderful respite from Charles' otherwise stressful day. He lavished attention on Sybbie and, in the process, Charles rediscovered some of the voices and faces he'd perfected when the Crawley girls were young. George had initially reserved judgment on this large clown, clinging to his Mama and watching Charles curiously with his big blue eyes. Ultimately, George decided that Charles was not anything to be frightened of and dozed off in his mother's arms.

The sandwiches were gone and the unexpected guests had been at the cottage for almost an hour when there was another knock at the door. "Now who has she invited?" Charles teased. He stood up slowly from the floor where he'd been sitting with Miss Sybbie and a picture book Tom had brought. His knees creaked, but he didn't mind.

Charles opened the door to reveal a large, grey, bull of a woman. She was frowning. Behind her was a nervous looking nursery maid with a large perambulator. "They told me I'd find the children here." She said in a thick Welsh accent heavy with disdain.

"You must be Nanny West," Charles extended his hand but was rebuffed as she pushed past him into the cottage. Charles' foul mood returned at once. If there was one thing he could not abide, it was rudeness.

"We mustn't disrupt the little prince's schedule, milady." Nanny West said in a cloying voice. It sounded like she thought Lady Mary was also an infant. Charles had her pegged in an instant. She was the type of bitter servant with no genuine affection or respect for anything. She overcompensated by being insanely sycophantic to the people she needed on her side and completely dismissive of anyone else. This was hardly the kind of woman you would want around the children. Charles also observed that she only had eyes for George. Sybbie's reaction to the woman was to go absolutely silent, whereas she'd been chattering away just moments before. This concerned Charles greatly.

"It must be nap time, love." Tom told Sybbie as he picked her up from the floor. "Say goodbye to Uncle Carson."

"Have a good nap, my sweet girl," Charles gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Nigh, nigh," Sybbie waved.

Tom lay Sybbie in the pram and gave her a kiss. "Sleep well, love, and I'll be there when you wake up," he promised.

Nanny West had secured Master George and lay him in the pram as well. "I'll come back with you," Mary said. "I want to sing him to sleep."

"He'll be asleep by the time we reach the nursery, milady."

"Still, I'll come with you." She turned to Charles. "We'll see you at dinner this evening?"

"Yes," Charles confirmed. "Mr. Branson, could you spare a moment? I'd like a quick word."

"Certainly."

They waved off the women and children. "What do you think of Nanny West?" Tom asked.

"I shouldn't say; it's not my place." Charles protested.

"Please, I'd like to know your opinion."

"I'd start shopping for another Nanny," Charles answered honestly. "You don't want someone that disingenuous around the children in their formative years."

"That's what I think, but I'm afraid to bring it up to Lady Grantham. Nanny West was her find after Sarah left."

"Sarah?" Charles looked very seriously at Tom.

"Nanny Bunting. I still see her in the village from time to time. She really has her hands full with the school. She asked me to call her Sarah."

"Mmhm," Charles responded shortly. Elsie would find that information interesting. She'd always suspected something between Tom and the young Nanny Bunting.

"I've been looking over the books you left and I think I've solved our problem." Charles handed Tom a free sheet of paper with the list of expenditures that tallied to exactly eight hundred pounds.

"These look good," Tom glanced at the list. "This is going to be a huge boost to the estate. I still feel odd not running things by His Lordship."

"About that…" Charles rocked on the balls of his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. "I may have misled you earlier."

"How so?"

"Well, His Lordship actually turned down the money on Monday. I wanted to hide it from him and I'm afraid I was willing to let you be an unwitting accessory."

"What changed your mind?"

"A bout of conscience."

"Mrs. Carson?"

"In a word, yes."

"Thank you for being honest with me, Mr. Carson." Tom looked back at the list. "We really could use these improvements. Why don't I help you try to persuade Lord Grantham to accept the money?"

"It won't be an easy task," Charles warned. "And it mustn't feel like we're ganging up on him."

"But aren't we?"

Charles shrugged and smiled.

-00-

Elsie came back to the cottage to change for dinner and found Charles sitting on the sofa, frowning pensively.

"Charles?"

He brightened up when he realized she was home.

"I had some visitors for tea today."

"I hope you didn't mind my suggesting they join you."

"Not at all. It was very thoughtful of you. If I can't enjoy tea with my wife, it's nice to have other family about." Charles assured her. "Seeing the children certainly bolstered my spirit."

"I wanted you to know that I don't reserve my kindnesses for the undeserving." Elsie threw out a line to see if he'd bite.

"Don't undo all your good work, love," Charles warned, but was not angry. "We must agree to disagree."

"But I _don't_ agree. I very much disagree to disagree."

"Then I shall have to develop that selective deafness that Beryl is always accusing Daisy of having." He joked. She did not laugh.

"I know that I've disappointed you, Elsie. I know you expect more from me, but this is something..." He didn't want to say any more, but he needed her to think well of him. "I've told Tom about the money."

"I'm glad to hear it, but I knew you would." She sat beside him on the couch and placed a hand on his knee. "I'm not disappointed, Charles; I'm confused. What did you mean earlier about feeling guilty because of Grigg?"

"I stood by passively as Grigg conned and cheated others. I made excuses for his behavior and turned a blind eye to how his actions injured people. In a way, I was an accomplice." He stood suddenly and walked away from her. He had already said more than he intended. He didn't want to give her time to delve any deeper.

"It's time to change." He went to the bedroom and began brushing the shoulders of his dinner jacket. Nathan had sent him a more formal suit via train. Charles had felt badly asking James to run to the station today to pick it up, but he'd tipped the lad, which seemed to make him very happy.

After sitting by herself on the couch for a bit, Elsie sighed and followed him in to change.

TBC...


	23. A Question of 800 Pounds

**AN/ Two updates yesterday, make sure you didn't miss tea...**

* * *

Lady Edith had returned from London and was entertaining Elsie with tales of Mr. Gregson's party in the Library after dinner. The men were still having brandy in the dining room while Lord Grantham enjoyed a cigar.

"_The_ Virginia Woolf?" Elsie was impressed. "I've read several of her short story collections. She offers some pretty outrageous points of view. I mean that in a good way. Her stories are interesting and intriguing."

"She's just as interesting in person. She was talking about a new work she was about to start on, about a society lady on the day of a big party."

"Who would be interested in reading that?" Cora wondered. "We live it." Cora smiled at Elsie, including her in the comment. Elsie bit her lip to keep from contradicting her sister-in-law.

"Not everyone lives this way, Mama," Edith reminded her. "And I'm sure Mrs. Woolf will find enough fascinating things to fill out the story. I don't think the party will be a main point, just the impetus and framework for the rest of the story."

"You know I don't understand your fancy editorial talk."

"Mama, you don't have to be an author or an editor to…"

Edith's sentence was cut short by the door being thrown open. Lord Grantham marched into the room looking quite cross. He was red faced and still carried his cigar. Tom and Charles followed him, looking guilty.

"Perhaps we could continue the conversation tomorrow," Charles offered, casting Elsie a quick look asked for help. She knew immediately that they'd been discussing The Eight Hundred Pounds; the money had taken on a title of its own in her mind. Elsie gave him an encouraging nod of her head that said, _'Don't give up.'_

"If you wish to continue to discuss it, you may, but my answer will not change; not tomorrow or the day after that or ever." Robert declared.

"What on earth can have caused such a quarrel?" Cora demanded. "And, Robert, put that cigar out at once; I won't have you contaminating this room with your stale tobacco."

Robert seemed surprised to find that he was still holding his cigar. Charles offered Robert the ashtray he had brought with him from the dining room, his butler instincts impossible to ever completely ignore. Robert stubbed out the cigar and handed the ashtray to Alfred, who had followed the men into the library. Alfred hurried away to dispose of the offending cigar.

"My esteemed brother would like to pay the estate a large sum of money because he thinks we are in need of help," Robert informed his family.

"I am trying to repay a debt; nothing more," Charles insisted calmly. Mary and Elsie both saw how hard he was working to keep his voice and emotions under control.

"And you recruited Tom when I said no," came the accusation.

"Actually, my initial plan was to deceive Mr. Branson into taking the money without telling you," Charles admitted.

"Treachery!" Robert exclaimed.

"Oh, yes, how terrible," Mary agreed sarcastically. "What next, Uncle Carson? Will you have the audacity to buy the children birthday presents behind our backs?"

Neither man appreciated her contribution; both told her so with glares that were eerily similar.

"Please, Robert, understand, I don't want the money."

"I don't need the money."

"I know you don't need it, but I will not rest easy until I have returned your grandfather's money to the estate." It was not easy for Charles to voice his feelings about the money, but he hoped that if he won over Cora, Edith and Mary, they would convince Robert to act sensibly. "How would you feel if you knew that someone had been paid to raise you as their own?"

Edith and Elsie were the only people in the room who saw the irony in that statement. In many ways, Elsie was the only person in the room who hadn't been raised by someone paid to raise her. Cora seemed sympathetic, "Robert, dear, try to understand his point of view."

"Accepting this situation is difficult enough without the constant reminder of the money adding to my humiliation."

"Are you humiliated to be part of this family?"

"Of course not, but I can hardly be proud of being illigitimate; of knowing what a burden I was to my mother even before I was born; of knowing the man I knew and loved as my father would take money for keeping silent and lying to me."

"We don't even know that your father _was_ paid."

"According to my uncle, he had to have been. He would not have been able to afford his first boat or his house without assistance."

"Maybe your father already repaid our grandfather."

"That seems very unlikely." Carson argued. "Perhaps he meant to in the end, but he died before he made any such arrangements, I'm almost certain."

"Downton is doing quite well without your money," Robert insisted stubbornly.

"Yes, it is. Downton is a strong and stable estate, thanks to your willingness to trust Mr. Matthew's vision, take some calculated risks and do what had to be done." Charles thought flattery might be his best chance. "You've led Downton and put it on sound financial footing despite many challenges. I just want to contribute this little bit to the estate in order to discharge a debt that hangs over me like a cloud. It is not a judgment on your management of the estate."

"With the taxes that will be coming due, we were going to have to postpone some important upgrades that we'd already committed to." Tom jumped in. "This money would be put to good use."

Robert looked around the room for an ally and found none. Sighing, he turned towards Charles. "You are quite set on this?"

"If you don't accept the money, I shall start hiding bank notes all over the estate." Charles declared with a wry smile, knowing that Robert was about to come around. "Besides, this money is tax free. Wouldn't you love to put one over on the tax man?"

Robert smiled at the thought of outwitting the tax men. "I will propose a compromise." Robert stated.

"I am listening."

"You and Tom and I will sit down and look at your list of improvements. We will agree on expenditures that equal _half _of the sum you named." He held up a hand to stop Charles' protest in its tracks.

"Charles, we don't know how much, if anything was paid. The amount is irrelevant. I'm still not happy allowing you to spend any of it in the estate, but I think we need to meet each other half way. I think stubbornness is one of those family traits that we share."

"Thank you, Robert. I accept your compromise. I appreciate that this is not easy for you. Please know how much I respect everything you've done for Downton, but thank you for letting me make this small contribution. Thank you for letting me put this part of my past to rest."

"Shall we drink on it?"

"Allow me." Charles mixed three whiskey and waters and passed two of them to Robert and Tom.

"Don't get used to this, Auntie Elsie," Mary whispered loudly. "Dinner isn't usually this exciting."

The look Elsie gave Mary nearly made Charles choke on his whiskey.

-00-

"Auntie Elsie? Did you know they were calling me that?" Elsie asked on their walk home.

Charles laughed. "It may have come up at tea today. What else should they call you?"

"I don't know; Aunt Carson or Aunt Elsie would be fine. Auntie isn't very dignified."

"But Auntie Elsie sounds so much better. It's a term of endearment rather than a title. We can ask Miss Sybbie tomorrow which she prefers."

"That's cheating. How am I to argue with child?"

"You argue with _me_."

"You aren't a child; you are an obstinate, daft man." She squeezed his arm lovingly. "I'm glad you and Robert reached a compromise. I know you must be relieved to have that settled."

"If we hadn't set up funds for the children, I would still have held out for the full amount, but I can see this is the most he could accept."

"We've both had a hard day, love, but a productive one." She assessed as they reached their cottage door.

"I can run you a bath if you like." Charles offered as he helped her out of her coat. He wanted to repay her kindness for inviting his special guests for tea.

"Mm. That sounds nice," she hummed. "But only if you put something special in it."

"I know you like that lavender oil, but I don't think we have any here."

"I wasn't talking about any oils, Charles." Elsie hugged him from behind as he turned to hang up his own coat. "I'd like to order my bath with company."

He hugged her arms closer to him and smiled at her over his shoulder. "I think that can be arranged."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ You're on your own to imagine their evening activities;) Thank you for the continuing support and reviews. **


	24. Alice? Who the F is Alice?

With rosy cheeks and gleamingly clean hair, Elsie waited patiently in the Crawley House entry way. She knew Dr. Clarkson was already upstairs. She heard him leaving the patient.

"Goodbye, Mr. Grigg."

"Thank you, doctor." Grigg answered, his voice already stronger than the day before.

Doctor Clarkson saw Mrs. Carson as he reached the stair landing and smiled. Elsie asked a silent question with her raised eyebrows.

"All he needs to put him right is some paid work." The doctor's usual compassion seemed tinted with a tone of suspicion. Elsie knew that Charles had told Dr. Clarkson about Grigg's questionable past. She wondered if he had told the doctor more than he'd divulged to her.

"It's hard for a healthy young man to find a job these days, never mind poor old Mr. Grigg."

"I know." The doctor accepted his coat from Isobel's maid. "But Mrs. Crawley has things in hand. My guess is you knew what you were doing, bringing him here." He gave her a warm and grateful smile as Isobel's voice carried down the stairwell.

"Mrs. Carson? Won't you come up?"

Elsie bid the doctor a good day with a nod and climbed the stairs. She found Isobel standing by the fire with Grigg seated nearer the door. Grigg moved to stand out of respect as Elsie entered the room. The exertion caused him to cough and Elsie wondered at what the doctor had said. Was Grigg really as ill as Elsie had thought or was he acting it up and taking advantage of her and Isobel's kindness?

"Oh, don't get up for me." Elsie smiled, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"What news of Charlie?" He certainly was relentless, this one. Elsie thought it best to continue to deflect him.

"Mr. Carson's still very busy," Elsie watched Grigg wilt back into the chair. "But he sends his best wishes."

"Does he?" Grigg looked at her with a gaze that cut through the pretense. "How did he phrase that exactly?"

Unwilling to give up so easily, Elsie tried to explain in a flustered manner, "Well, he…he said to tell you…"

"He didn't say nothing, did he?" Grigg stopped her from digging herself any deeper.

"You have to understand, he doesn't remember the days you spent together with any great nostalgia."

"He thinks it were all my fault. But it weren't."

"Meaning what?"

"Nevermind. But it weren't my fault."

Elsie stared at Grigg, wanting to ask him for more information, but painfully aware of Mrs. Crawley being in the room. Grigg had fallen on hard times, but he was still a man who could read his audience. He saw how Mrs. Carson looked at him, longing to know more about her husband. Grigg could well imagine that Charles had not told Elsie very much about their years together. Grigg was hurt and angry that his old pal would not even come to see him. Grigg felt that Charles had always carried himself as if he were better than those around him. Now that he was warm and being looked after, Grigg's bitterness at Charles' success resurfaced.

"I'll bid you good day, then, Mr. Grigg. I'm glad to hear you are doing better." Elsie hoped to make a quick escape. Something about this man unsettled her. It was something beyond his presence being a reminder of the rift between herself and Charles.

Grigg rose slowly from his chair and shook her hand goodbye. With mischief intended, Grigg looked meaningfully at Mrs. Carson. He leaned in to whisper so only she could hear him.

"Ask him about Alice."

-00-

Elsie was to meet Charles at the Grantham Arms for lunch. Charles had decided it was a good idea to meet with Mr. Samuels to confirm that the sale of the Grantham Arms was still on the table. If so, Anna and Mr. Bates were the main question. The timing of the deal would depend upon when they would be ready to step away from Downton.

Elsie left Crawley House with her heart beating inexplicably fast. _Alice,_ just the sound of another woman's name increased her anxiety. It was foolish to be jealous of a woman Charles had known before he had met herself, but there it was. It wasn't just a vague pang or a tiny twinge of regret. It was a seething, searing, burning brand of betrayal. Charles had a way of making Elsie feel like he had never loved, _could _never love another woman. She didn't know the full story, she reminded herself. Hell, she didn't even know a sliver of the story, but Grigg's words and tone had set her mind and heart racing.

A falling out between friends, a reluctance on Charles' part to talk to her and a woman's name; Elsie could put that puzzle together easily enough. Charles must have cared for this Alice very much to allow her to come between him and his partner. You don't perform with someone day in and day out for years without forming a bond.

Elsie walked the long way around to the Grantham Arms. Her heart had calmed and the initial pain of thinking of Charles with another woman had subsided to a dull ache. She had believed him when he professed that she was his first and only love. She felt like a fool. Of course there had been other women. How else could he be such an amazing lover if he'd never been with anyone else? How else could he have shown her pleasures she didn't even know her body was capable of feeling?

She tried to make herself believe there was a reasonable explanation. But why hadn't he told her about this woman before? She promised herself to hear him out. She resolved to wait for a private moment to ask him about Alice. Elsie did not plan to have this out at the Grantham Arms for all the village to see.

Elsie took a deep, calming breath and entered the pub. The way Charles' face lit up when he saw her went a long way towards alleviating her jealous thoughts for now. Charles clearly loved her. What did it matter what he'd chosen to keep hidden from her?

Mr. Samuels smiled genially at her. Charles left the bar and joined her, gesturing towards a table. He held a beer in one hand and what looked like a cider in the other.

"I've ordered for us both; the choice was between stew or stew, so I ordered one of each." Charles joked as he set the cider down in front of her. The Grantham Arms food was notoriously unvaried. "And I thought you might need this."

"Thank you, Charles." She played along, but she felt her heart breaking. Even if he loved her now, they'd begun their marriage with a lie he'd whispered to her on their first night together, _'No one but you, Elsie, no one ever but you.'_

She felt that everything they had, everything she'd thought they had together was like a house built on sand. They were likely silly and unfounded thoughts, but she could not banish them. Even though it was wild speculation, the hint of Charles being with this Alice woman had grown in her mind to become as concrete as a confirmed fact.

She was barely registering what he was was telling her about Mr. Samuels' willingness to work with Anna and John's timeline.

"So that's good news." He finished.

"Charles, we need to stay in Downton longer than planned."

"What? Why?"

"I can't leave Isobel to deal with Grigg on her own."

"You should have thought of that before you interfered. Have you forgotten that we're to have Suzanne and Nathan to dinner on Sunday? And I promised Fredrick that I'd be back at work on Monday."

"Can't you work from here? As for Suzie and Nate, they're easily rescheduled."

"I didn't bring anything with me to work on and it's rude to reschedule people at such a late date." Charles argued.

"I have to help her find employment for Mr. Grigg, or he will never be fit to leave her house."

"She can survive without you for a few days."

"But…"

"Here is what I propose." Charles cut her off, which irked her almost as much as his condescending tone. "We can stay through Sunday morning, but no later. We'll entertain our friends Sunday night as planned. I'll stop by the office on Monday to get my correspondence and some paperwork and we can be back here by Monday evening."

Suddenly she wasn't as perturbed with him. He was willing to support her, just not willing to let down their friends or Cousin Fredrick. She really should not have expected any different from him.

"That is acceptable." Elsie sipped her cider. "Thank you, love."

"The only other alternative was to have you stay in Downton while I returned to Hull and that would not be acceptable to me."

"Nor to me." She reached for his hand on the table and was pleased to find it open and waiting. Her suspicious thoughts quieted, but did not disappear.

TBC...

* * *

**AN/ I know some people will argue that this jealousy and these suspicions are OOC for Elsie, but I think Charles' behavior towards Grigg is inexplicable to her. I think that would make her susceptible to these thoughts.**

**And with this angsty start, I will bid you all a good weekend. **


	25. Miss Sybbie's Big Day

Charles was so relieved about the money and excitedly anticipating the return of yesterday's tea guests that he did not pick up on Elsie's cool demeanor on their walk back from town. Elsie quickly forgot her worries as she lost herself in the preparations for tea. Busy hands helped to distract her from the poisonous thoughts of an idle mind.

When Tom and Mary and the children arrived for tea, Charles noticed that Mary was less animated than she had been the day before. With Elsie enjoying holding George while Sybbie vied for her attention, Charles took a moment to corner Mary.

"Has something happened?" Charles queried. "I hope you aren't upset with me for forcing your father's hand yesterday."

"No, I understand that you would want to return money you perceive as tainted. Actually, I could use your advice." Mary pulled out a letter from inside her dress. "Barrow brought me a box of Mr. Matthew's things this morning. His firm just now got around to shipping it to us. Read this."

Charles read the letter written in a deceased man's firm and confident hand. When he was done, he looked up at Mary. "Does this have any legal weight? Could this be considered a Will?"

"I don't know."

"What did your father say?"

"I haven't shown him yet. I'm afraid he might think that I want to lay claim to half the estate because I question his ability to lead Downton into the future."

"But you do want to assert your claim?"

"I don't know. I've tried to be more active in things, but Papa is resistant. According to this, Matthew would have wanted me more involved."

"It's clear that Mr. Matthew wanted you to have a say. Obviously, he wanted you to be secure, but beyond that, he trusted you to look after Downton and your child."

Mary smiled at her son who was being rocked gently by his Great Auntie Elsie. As much as Sybil was Charles' darling, George was quickly becoming enamored of a certain, lilting Scottish voice.

Charles turned the letter over. "It's even been witnessed by two people. This must be legally binding."

"I care less about how the law will interpret this than how Papa will."

"He'll respect Matthew's wishes, of course he will." Charles assured her. "Your father's ego might get bruised, but he wants what's best for you and George and Downton."

"I hope you're right."

Charles looked down as a tiny hand tapped his knee. Sybbie handed him a wooden cow.

"Is this for me?"

The toddler nodded. "Moo," she added in case there was any doubt.

"What a lovely moo cow." Charles praised with just the right amount of enthusiasm. "Shall we show Auntie Elsie?"

Elsie tried to send a scowl Charles' direction, but she could not because Sybbie had already teetered over and offered Elsie a beatific smile and an eager, "Auntie!"

"Yes, it's a lovely moo cow." Elsie agreed. Sybbie suddenly decided that if Elsie's lap was good enough for the baby, it was good enough for her. Charles came over to relieve Elsie's arms of George as Sybbie scrambled up.

By the end of tea with the children, Auntie Elsie had accepted her appellation and George had warmed up more to his Uncle Carson, but he was still unsure. Mary laughed as George looked around comically every time Charles spoke as he held the boy. It was as though the baby could not discern from which direction the voice came. Elsie understood the child's confusion, for she'd experienced feeling that voice as she lay her head upon his chest. Elsie knew that from such proximity Charles' deep voice surrounded the tiny babe like softly rolling thunder.

The two parents were discussing the situation in the nursery as Charles and Elsie entertained the children. "I'll speak to Mama about Nanny West if you like, Tom, but I don't see what you see."

"You've been preoccupied, if I may say. Even Charles saw it yesterday."

"Did you Uncle Carson?"

"I'm afraid I did, my dear. There is something insincere about that woman."

"Well, not everyone can be a Nanny Bunting," Mary teased Tom, though Carson's words worried her. "Have you seen anything more of Miss Bunting?"

"Not recently. I saw her in the village around Christmas."

"How is she to know you're interested if you avoid her?"

"Interested?" Tom was flustered. "I'm too busy to be interested in anyone. And I'm not avoiding her; I really am very busy. The estate and Sybbie come first."

"If you say so," Mary backed off. She hadn't meant to make him too uncomfortable. She just wanted to assess his reaction and knew she would get a more honest response here than after dinner. Mary was satisfied that she had her answer. It was as she thought, Tom was lonely, but wasn't taking time for himself.

-00-

Momentum carried Elsie through to dinner that evening, where Isobel and Violet joined the family at Mary's invitation. Cora still didn't know why. It was a mystery to almost everyone until they were gathered, awaiting Barrow's announcement of dinner. Then, Mary told them all about Matthew's letter. She asked her father to read it to everyone.

"But it can't be legal." Robert protested, waving the letter about. "I'll have Murray look at it at once."

"Whether it's legal or not is beside the point," Violet contended. "Matthew's intentions are clear; Mary has a half stake in Downton."

Barrow announced dinner, ending any possible argument for the time being. Discussion continued over dinner, but it was primarily civil. Robert did put Mary on the spot once, trying to overwhelm her with complicated questions that he himself did not know the answer to. Tom refrained from pointing this out in front of so many, but he would gently remind Robert later that Mary's input was a valid as anyone's. Indeed, Mary had more of an idea of Matthew's thoughts on the estate than Tom or Robert.

When dinner ended, the ladies left the men and relocated to the sitting room. As they walked, Isobel told Elsie some remarkable news.

"You called the theatre in Belfast?" Elsie looked at Isobel in astonishment. It really was amazing what this woman could do when she put her mind to it. "That was enterprising."

"I contacted a great many theatres, but the manager at the opera house called back. It seems they're in need of a stage door keeper. They'd chosen one but he dropped out. He asks Mr. Grigg to consider it."

That matter seemed settled. Elsie was more concerned on another subject. "How do you feel know that you've heard Mr. Matthew's letter? I hope it wasn't too upsetting."

"As a matter of fact, it was a relief. I felt so happy that he'd finally been heard. But judging by tonight's dinner, it may prove a heavy mantle for Mary."

"He was rather harsh with her, wasn't he?" Elsie said quietly, but the Dowager's bat like ears picked up the comment.

"I was ready to call for the nanny," Violet quipped, "he was acting like a child who's been asked to share his toys."

"He needed time to adjust to sharing the responsibilities with Matthew. Now, he may need time to adjust to sharing with Mary," Isobel defended Robert.

"I'm sure you're right," Elsie supported Isobel.

"Speaking of the nanny," Mary segued. "Tom voiced some concerns about Nanny West. Have any of you noticed anything odd about her behavior?"

"Do you mean how she won't even let me visit my own grandson?" Isobel asked. "She was quite rude about it. She acts like she owns the child."

"I've never heard her say anything about Sybbie," Edith observed. "She only seems to bother with George."

Elsie was not surprised that Edith would be sensitive to seeing one child favored over the other.

"Nonsense." Cora protested. "You must all be mistaken. The children seem happy."

"It's not like they could tell you if it were otherwise," Violet pointed out.

Cora gave her mother-in-law a scowl that said_, 'And when did you become an expert on children?' _

"Ahem."

"What is it, Barrow?"

The butler had just entered the room, after having been dismissed by the men. Tom did not want an audience when he and Charles argued Mary's case with Robert.

"I wouldn't have spoken up if it weren't for a little girl and baby boy being put at risk."

"Explain yourself, Barrow," Cora commanded.

"Milady, since you and others have voiced concerns, you might like to know that Nanny West has been leaving the children to their own devices."

"What? You mean she's neglecting them?"

"I don't think she's as attentive as they deserve," Thomas hedged. "I'll leave you to judge for yourself."

"I will do that," Cora vowed. She could hardly ignore warnings from so many sources. "Please excuse me, mother, Isobel, I will leave you to Mary and Edith."

Elsie was not surprised at being forgotten, but she was shocked at what happened next.

"Mrs. H- Carson, I feel I may need your expertise." Cora admitted. "Would you please accompany me to the nursery?"

"Of course, milady."

The two left the others and quickly ascended the main stair. Elsie had been up and down these stairs hundreds of times, but never in sight of any of the family. It felt odd to be climbing these steps beside Lady Grantham. Elsie motioned to Cora to be quiet as they approached the nursery. The door was slightly ajar and they could hear little George fussing. Through the small slit in the door they heard Nanny West comforting him.

"There, there, my precious boy." Her voice was sweet and warm. Cora smiled at Elsie who withheld her final assessment. "And don't let that chauffer's daughter disturb you anymore."

Cora looked aghast. Elsie was about to rush in to tell Nanny West off, but Cora put a hand on her arm. The two women watched as the rotund Welshwoman turned towards a sobbing Sybbie standing beside her crib. Her voice was hard and harsh. It was voice that would have frightened a grown woman, let alone a small child.

"Go back to sleep, you wicked, little crossbreed."

Cora had heard enough. She pushed open the door and went directly to the bell.

"Your Ladyship!" Nanny West stammered. "I didn't see you there."

"Obviously not."

She knew she'd been caught, but she made a desperate stab at saving her job. "I was just…a…I was just having a game with Miss Sybbie."

Elsie rushed around the Nanny to the toddler and began shushing her and kissing her.

"I want you to pack tonight and leave first thing in the morning." Cora spoke with a voice that was low enough to not disturb the children, but hard enough to crackle with strength and authority. She had Nanny West caught in a piercing stare that Elsie had never seen. Indeed, she'd never seen Lady Grantham display this level of authority. It was clear that Cora was keeping deliberately far away from the woman. She looked as though she were a hair's breadth from slapping the woman. The fact that Nanny West still held little George was probably the only thing that stopped her from attacking immediately.

"But Your Ladyship…"

"Please put Master George back into his crib."

Nanny West complied, but she was reluctant to give up what she must consider her only defense.

"You are not to touch the children again."

Just then, Anna entered the room and was confused by the scene she found. "Your Ladyship, I thought it was Nanny West ringing."

"No, Anna, Nanny West is leaving in the morning. Can you find her a bed for the night and ask one of the maids to sleep with the children?"

Nanny West was crying now, pleading for her job. "Your Ladyship, I was only joking…"

"Please, Miss West, I prefer not to discuss it, except to say that your values have no place in a civilized home." Cora dismissed the woman and did not spare her another look. Cora sat down and addressed Anna. "Now, Anna, Mrs. Carson and I will wait here while Nanny West packs. You will find a maid and prepare a room. You understand Miss West is not to be left alone with the children; not for one minute."

Anna nodded and left after exchanging a bewildered look with Elsie.

Nanny West's incessant sobbing was beginning to grate on Elsie's nerves. She'd managed to calm Sybbie and had ascertained that the child had a wet nappie. Elsie moved to the changing table to remedy this problem. Cora watched her with inquisitive eyes.

"Have you never seen a nappie change, milady?"

"I can't say that I have," Cora admitted. "I've smelled a few that needed changing, but…"

"But there's always been a bell nearby?" Elsie finished when Cora had stopped and dropped her head in shame.

How could she have trusted this woman with the two most important people in her life? It was how things were done, Cora told herself. She'd been raised by a servant, her husband had been raised by servants and her children had been raised by servants. Cora could not help but wonder if any of the girls' nannies had ever been guilty of such abuses. She told herself that Carson would have known and would have put a stop to it at once. She was gratified to think that it was possible that Barrow felt the same way about Sybbie and George as Carson had felt about the girls.

Elsie guessed many of Cora's thoughts and understood the guilt that accompanied them.

"Times are changing, milady," Elsie assured her. "Would you like to learn?"

"I can at least watch." Cora stood and approached the table cautiously. Sybbie smiled up at her Gran and Auntie. She was pleased to have such loving attention.

It had been many years since Elsie had changed a diaper, but the process came back to her very quickly. Babysitting children at neighboring farms had been one of her first jobs beyond the farm when she was a girl. The diapers now were thicker and less threadbare than the ones she'd learned on, but the basics were the same. Elsie talked Lady Grantham through the process, explaining the whys and wherefores. Cora even fastened the last pin herself before scooping Sybbie up while praising the girl for being so strong.

Nanny West was packed by now. "I'll escort you to the servant's hall, Miss West." Elsie did not want that vile woman in the same room with the children for one moment longer than strictly necessary. Still sobbing, former Nanny West followed Elsie out of the room carrying her small case. In the hallway, the woman tried to plead again for her job.

"Tell her it were only a game," the woman begged. "That lot doesn't understand. Children must be taught manners. That lot doesn't want to know how it happens; they just demand that it does."

"She understands well enough," Elsie assured Miss West. "You're lucky Lady Grantham has such fine manners. If it were me, you'd have received a slap across the face for speaking so horribly to Miss Sybbie. You still might get one, if you don't quiet down and accept that you've been sacked. You should be ashamed of treating a child in such a manner."

"You aren't the housekeeper here anymore, Mrs. Carson," Miss West said defiantly, as if she'd just remembered.

"Which is exactly why I am free to slap you if I like," Elsie warned and was pleased to see the plump woman scuttle away from her and down the back steps.

TBC...

* * *

**AN/ There were a few canon events (Nanny West and Matthew's Letter) to set straight before the big 'Alice discussion', but it is coming... eventually...I promise. **


	26. Reopening a Wound

Robert stood beside the fireplace with a confused expression on his face. "They went to the nursery? After dinner?" It was unheard of.

Tom had hurried up to the nursery as soon as he heard Mary's tale. Mary thought perhaps she should have helped handle the situation, but her mother had hired the nanny and felt responsible. It would be easier to let her mother handle things directly than it would be to convince Cora of the nanny's shortcomings. Besides, Mrs. Carson would be more help to Cora than Mary.

Before the men had joined them, Edith had gone up, citing plans to return to London early tomorrow. Violet had gone home, but had left instructions that she was to be called if needed. Isobel had waited for a report from the nursery and was satisfied with what Elsie had told them before returning to the nursery to wait with Cora. After that, Isobel had waited for another reason.

"I think I'll go now that things are settled," Isobel announced.

"Barrow, please send for the car for Mrs. Crawley," Mary instructed.

"Would you walk me to the door, Mr. Carson?"

"Of course, Mrs. Crawley," Charles was caught off guard by the invitation or he would not have accepted it. He had his suspicions of why Isobel would want him to accompany her to the door. "I'm sure Mrs. Carson would wish to bid you goodnight, but I will have to stand in her stead."

"As a matter of fact, it's you with whom I've stayed to speak ; to talk about Charles Grigg." Charles stopped just inside the front door. His posture stiffened and he stared intently at a spot on the wall, but Isobel would not be deterred. "You know he's got a job at the opera house in Belfast?"

Charles had not known this, but he would not be drawn into a conversation. If he would not speak to Elsie about it, he was certainly not going to discuss it with Mrs. Crawley.

"He's so anxious to talk to you before he goes."

"Then he is in for a disappointment." Charles hoped that his tone was not overly rude, but still conveyed his conviction to not engage in any further discussion on the subject.

"He says he's resolved to put his dishonesty behind him."

"Is he now?" This maddening woman would not let the matter drop. Charles was forced to deploy his sarcasm.

"I know it's more than that. He told me he caused you great unhappiness, but he said that it was not his fault."

"He was always a liar," Charles struggled to keep his tone civil.

"I see." Isobel paused as if she'd finally given up, but Charles should have known better. "It seems a pity not to take the chance to end a quarrel. Isn't it better than to let things fester?"

Charles considered her for a moment with his hands behind his back. He tried to imagine he was simply a butler once more; a butler's life was safe and uncomplicated.

"I don't mean to speak out of turn, Mrs. Crawley, but you will, I think, accept that any difference between Mr. Grigg and me is my concern."

"Of course it is, I'm sorry." Charles opened the door for Isobel. She was immediately struck by the similarity between the stubborn man's stoic profile and the great bronze gargoyle on the door. "Thank you, Carson, good evening." Neither of them noticed how she'd addressed him.

He closed the car door firmly behind her as she climbed into the waiting car. Charles remained standing in the front entry for a long time. He was beginning to understand that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to escape from the man he had been.

When Elsie finally left Tom, Cora and the sleeping children, she found Charles standing just inside the front door. In the dark light and his dinner jacket, he almost looked like his old self. She was too exhausted to ask him about Alice tonight and he was not inclined to talk about anything. They walked back to their cottage, dressed for bed and turned in without speaking anything more than an exchange of, "Goodnight, love."

-00-

Robert and Mary found themselves alone and staring uncomfortably at each other. Mary was still hurt by her father's words at dinner. For his part, Robert realized that he'd been thoughtlessly cruel to her. He knew it was because he was afraid of being irrelevant to his family and estate. Tom and Charles had gently reassured him that Mary was not looking to replace or overthrow him. She only wanted to continue Matthew's reforms; reforms that had saved Downton from a fate the likes of so many others, like Duneagle.

"I hope you don't think that I don't want you involved in the estate," Robert finally spoke.

"Why ever would I think that?" Mary's sarcasm was soft-edged.

"Don't tell your grandmother that I'm agreeing with her, but, regardless of the legality of Matthew's letter, his intent is clear. I should honor his intent. Matthew's decisions for Downton have been more successful than mine."

"Dearest Papa, it was never a competition."

"No, but one can't help but make the comparison." Robert hung his head slightly. Mary stood and came to stand before him.

"Whatever changes or improvements that Matthew may have made, you were still at Downton's helm. A good captain trusts his crew. You are a good captain. I just want to be part of the crew." Mary smiled and placed a hand on his arm. "Help me find my sea legs."

Robert took his daughter's delicate, gloved hand and kissed it. "You sound like your mother when you use nautical terms. I would be happy to welcome you on board, my dear, and Tom will be delighted. Truth be told, he can teach you more than I can."

"Perhaps the three of us could sit down tomorrow and talk properly."

"Of course, we've already scheduled time with your uncle to discuss the upgrades he wants to finance. You can join us for that. Beyond that, the main problem is a simple one; tax."

"But that's just it; Tom tells me you want to sell land to pay for it."

"It's the only way, I'm afraid."

"Yes, but, you see, I don't agree." Robert raised his eyebrows in shock. "Anyway, I think I shall turn in for the evening."

Mary walked imperiously out of the room. It made Robert happy to see her old fire return, but he was a little apprehensive for his own sake. He knew he would not be able to keep his daughter quiet. Not now that she had the bit between her teeth.

-00-

The next day, Elsie awoke in a foul mood. She forced herself to jump out of bed as soon as she was awake. She'd already left the bed before Charles was awake enough to pull her close for what he called their morning snug. Often, the snug turned into more. A few days ago, she hadn't minded, but Elsie was determined not to be intimate with him until he'd come clean about Alice. She felt a cloud over their bed and she would not rest easy with him until the skies had cleared.

A disappointed Charles found her buzzing around the kitchen. When he couldn't get her to stand still long enough for a morning kiss, he knew something was wrong.

"Elsie, are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or shall I have to guess?"

She grumbled and pretended to ignore him.

"I'm supposed to spend the day with Tom and Robert touring the estate. I won't be able to concentrate if I think there is something wrong between us."

"I think you know exactly what's wrong between us, Charles." Elsie turned away from the sink to face him.

Charles stood at the edge of the kitchen and frowned.

"I'm off to Crawley House to help Isobel prepare Mr. Grigg for his trip. You know he's going to work in Belfast?"

"I had heard."

"He's leaving the village in the morning, the 11 o'clock train."

"What's that to me?"

"I'll tell you what it is," Elsie took a large step closer to him. Her defiant chin was only inches from his chest. They rarely stood this close together without their arms around each other. "It's an open wound. I don't know why, but I do know this, you'd do better to stitch it up and let it heal."

Charles set his jaw and looked down at his wife. She knew exactly how her proximity would affect him; this was playing dirty pool in his book. Charles knew he should talk to her, tell her everything, but he wasn't ready. He was scared, ashamed and angry. Why couldn't she just let the past stay where it belonged?

They stood obstinately toe-to-toe for almost a full minute. There was a silent battle of wills. Elsie wanted him to bring up Alice on his own, but he was a wall of stone.

"The family are expecting us for dinner again tonight. I'll see you then." With these cold and distant words, Charles turned to leave.

Elsie was not about to let him just walk away. "Who is Alice?" She blurted out.

Charles rounded on her with startling ferocity. He reached out as though he was going to grab her by the shoulders, but stopped himself. "What did Grigg tell you?" He demanded. His expression was tortured and guilty. Elsie thought his guilt was from not having told her about Alice, but the truth ran much deeper. "What did he tell you?"

"Just a name." Elsie said daringly. Charles turned away, his panic disappearing as swiftly as it had arrived.

"Then let's leave it that way." He tried to sound nonchalant, but Charles wouldn't make eye contact with her. "I mean, people drift in and out of your life, don't they?"

Elsie waited patiently for him to say something more, but Charles seemed done with conversation. He walked back towards the door and put on his coat.

"What does it matter, anyway?" He shrugged dismissively. He opened the door and walked into the cold morning muttering to himself, "We shout and scream and wail and cry, but in the end we all must die."

With that he was gone. Elsie stood in the kitchen and shook her head. His behavior confused and distressed her. "Ah, that's cheered me up, thank you," she muttered bitterly to the empty cottage.

TBC...

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**AN/ Obviously, I'm taking some liberties with the canon conversations.**


	27. Stubborn Mule

**AN/ Here's a short second update to celebrate Jim Carter's Bday. 66! And still hot! **

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Elsie spent her morning at Crawley House, but declined to stay for lunch. She could not stand Grigg's smug face one more second longer. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she felt that Grigg was looking at her as though he expected her to mention Alice. Elsie would not give him the satisfaction of knowing the discord he had wrought in her marriage.

Isobel had ordered Grigg a new suit and he was acting quite the dandy in it. Most of the time, he remembered to be frail, humble and grateful, but Elsie saw just enough of the actor in his mannerisms to wonder at the sincerity of the man. Was Charles correct? Had they all been fooled by this man?

She stopped by Mr. Preston's store for a few items for the cottage larder and walked back to the cottage. Elsie ate a quick sandwich, and then found herself with nothing else to do for the day. She wrapped her heaviest shawl around her shoulders and left the cottage with the intent of strolling through the gardens. _Just like a posh Lady,_ Elsie teased herself silently.

Elsie ambled through outer gardens towards the walled garden. It was cold out and the walls would at least offer some protection from this biting wind. She was ready for this Grigg business to be over. She was ready to be back in Hull where there was work to be done and where they were simply Mr. and Mrs. Carson.

"Elsie?" A woman's startled voice woke her from her musings.

A smile came to Elsie's lips. She found to her surprise that she was in the mood for company. "That almost sounded natural, Cora."

"You as well. We'll get there yet," the countess laughed. "May I join you?"

"I was about to ask if I could join you."

"Then we shall just join each other," Cora took Elsie's arm companionably. "The girls don't have time to walk the gardens with me anymore." There was a touch of sadness in her voice.

"Youth often forgets to take time to appreciate the quiet moments. They think if you aren't running from place to place, you're bound to miss something." Elsie commiserated.

"I remember when they were little how excited they used to get when it was their turn to spend the afternoon all alone with their Mama." Cora smiled a one corner of the garden as if she could still see her young daughters dancing on the grass. "Edith talked so much on those occasions that she scarcely drew breath. Now, I'm lucky if I get three words out of her. She'd prefer to be in London with Rosamund than here with me."

Elsie wasn't so sure it was Rosamund that Edith was visiting so regularly.

"They've grown into such capable women, they may be busy, but they will never outgrow the need for their mother."

"It's kind of you to say so, even if it isn't entirely true," Cora patted Elsie's arm. "But enough of my melancholy; tell me what's bothering you."

"Who said there was anything bothering me?" Elsie went on the defensive.

"No one needs to say it explicitly. For starters, Carson, that is, Charles, wore a scowl this morning that had half the staff running for hiding places, even though he's no longer butler."

Elsie could well imagine.

"And then, I find you here in a pensive mood. You can tell me what's wrong."

Elsie appreciated the offer, but she knew Cora was not a very reliable confidant. The Downton gossip mill had calmed considerably with O'Brien's departure, but Cora was still not one with whom one should share personal troubles.

"Has it to do with Mr. Grigg?" Cora guessed. "I can't think that his presence has had a calming effect on dear Mr. Carson. Isobel says he won't even visit Grigg."

"That is true."

"But Grigg leaves tomorrow. Time is running out to mend old fences."

"Charles is aware of that, but I am determined not to interfere."

"Are you?" Cora smiled knowingly.

"Charles can sometimes be very determined."

"Yes, I think our husbands could teach mules how to be stubborn." Cora teased. "But the influence you have over him is no secret. Even before you were married, anyone hoping to persuade Mr. Carson of anything knew to come to you first."

Elsie accepted the compliment with a sad smile. "Not this time."

-00-

Charles had been glad to see Mary joining them for the tour of the estate. The list of needed improvements was extensive. The four of them would need to prioritize things as they visited the different farms and buildings on the estate.

Mary noticed her uncle's distracted state of mind as they drove from location to location. When they stopped for lunch at the Grantham Arms, she decided to ferret out the reason. Tom and Robert had spotted a tenant and were speaking with him as Mary and Charles seated themselves at a table.

"I need to thank Mrs. Carson for her help with the children last night. What a nasty business."

"She was glad to be of help, I'm sure."

"You're sure? Don't you _know?_"

"We were both tired last night and didn't discuss it."

Mr. Samuels scurried over and wiped down the table in front of Lady Mary. In the process, he scraped the crumbs on to Charles' lap, but he didn't seem to notice. "What an honor, My Lady. It is good to see you out and about," the landlord gushed. "What will you be wanting for lunch, My Lady?"

"What do you recommend, uncle?"

"Definitely the stew," Charles answered. "It's the house specialty; the best thing on the menu." He did not feel the need to mention that it was the only thing on the menu.

"Very good," Mr. Samuels bowed to Mary and skittered away.

"Have you seen Mr. Grigg yet?" Mary asked suddenly.

"What? No. I don't see a need. Mrs. Crawley has things well in hand, I am sure."

"No doubt, but he's hardly her responsibility."

"Are you saying that he's _my_ responsibility?"

Mary was taken aback by his harsh tone but did not back down. "Certainly more so than Isobel's."

"He is responsible for himself and that should be the end of it."

"But that isn't the end of it. They are helping him out of deference to you."

"I didn't ask anyone to do so. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Still, the least you can do is see the man."

"Who has put you up to this?"

"No one. I merely see that you are unhappy and I wish to help you."

This softened Charles considerably. "Thank you, my dear, but please trust me to know what is best for myself."

"Famous last words," Mary observed wryly as Tom and Robert joined them. The conversation turned back to the estate issues, but Carson caught his niece looking at him throughout the meal.

TBC…

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**AN/ Just enjoying a little angst with our babies apart. I'm gonna milk this one for a bit;) I've been accused of becoming as sadistic as Fellowes...guilty as charged. **


	28. Good, Clean Fun

**AN/ FYI, there were two updates yesterday.**

**Now, we will take a brief break in our regularly scheduled angst for a little fun…**

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Charles and the rest of the party did not return to the Abbey until well after tea. They were exhausted, but had accomplished a lot. Mary was beginning to understand the workings of the estate. She'd always had a theoretical understanding of how the different parts of the estate interacted, but she'd never actually seen some of the grittier sides of the operation.

Charles and Tom were happy with the improvements that were to come. Mary and Tom had gone out of their way to be deferential to Robert, especially in front of the tenants. Lord Grantham had known most of the tenants for all of their lives and it was agreed that he needed to be seen as the strong hand at the helm.

A few eyebrows had been raised at Charles' inclusion in the party, but no one had actually challenged his right to be there. Though no one was to know about the money Charles was bringing to the table, it was readily apparent that the former butler was genuinely interested in the needs of the farmers.

The car pulled up outside the Abbey. Barrow rushed to open the front car door for Lady Mary who had been riding beside Tom. Robert and Charles descended from the back seat of the car. Tom remained behind the wheel.

"Why don't I drop you by the cottage, Mr. Carson?" Tom offered. "It's almost on the way to the garage."

"It's nowhere near on the way," Charles corrected him. "Thank you, but I'm perfectly fine walking."

"You might be interested to know that Mrs. Carson is with Her Ladyship in the library," Barrow reported.

Charles and Robert exchanged intrigued looks and shrugged. This was a pleasant but unexpected development. The family assimilation was going much more smoothly than anyone could have dreamed.

"Thank you, Barrow. Please tell the ladies we've arrived home safely, but need to wash before we are presentable." Robert sighed wearily. This had been one of the most intensive days he'd ever spent on the grounds. He felt good; vital and important. "I think there is just time for a bath before dinner."

"Excellent idea, Papa," Mary agreed heartily. "I shall see you at dinner, Uncle Carson." She gave Charles a quick kiss and started up the steps. She stumbled slightly, but Charles caught her arm.

"Mind your step, milady," Charles warned in an exaggerated Yorkshire accent.

Mary and Robert laughed heartily. They'd heard that phrase dozens of times today as the farmers stumbled over themselves unsure of how to act around Lady Mary.

"We'll see you at dinner, Charles," Robert bid his brother adieu and went in search of a warm bath.

-00-

Elsie stayed visiting with Cora a little while longer after Barrow's report. They'd spent the afternoon discussing some of the staffing issues at Downton. Now that Mary was leaving mourning, Anna could not possibly remain housekeeper and Lady's maid. Cora was grateful for Elsie's insight and recommendations. While the discussion was similar to one they might have had when Elsie was housekeeper, the tone was much different. This was a discussion between friends and equals, not a meeting between employer and employee.

Elsie stalled leaving the Abbey because she did not want to take a chance that she might walk in while Charles was transitioning from his bath towel to his dinner clothes. Her resolve to shut him out until he opened up to her was strong, but she did not trust herself to resist him if confronted with such a tempting sight. She had felt strangely all day and finally decided that it was because she'd not begun the day by kissing her husband. It was more than a pleasant habit. Reaffirming their love each morning had become an essential and integral part of her day. Without that touchstone, she spent the day feeling untethered.

Elsie found the door unlocked when she reached the cottage. A pair of muddy shoes sat beside the door. A wet pair of gaiters lay across them. The lack of muddy footprints showed that he'd removed the shoes on the outside doorstep. Elsie smiled at this small consideration. They had decided to pay a maid from the Abbey a little extra to come visit once a week when they were in Yorkshire, but the rest of the cleaning was up to the two of them. Most men would have stomped into the house and made a mess without thinking. Her fastidious man would never dream of doing such a thing.

"Charles?" She called towards the bedroom. The door was open, so she peeked into the room. It was empty. _Blast,_ she thought. He must still be in the bath.

Still, he had not answered her, nor were there any sounds coming from the bath. Charles was a bit of a splasher and did not bathe quietly. She knocked softly on the closed door before pushing it open. The sight that greeted her was not quite what she'd expected; Charles was sprawled in the tub with his head pillowed by a towel and a washcloth covering his eyes. He was snoring lightly.

Silently, Elsie slipped out of her dress and underthings. After seeing her man like this, her resolve was completely gone. As infuriating as Charles could be, right now, she needed to touch him and be touched by him. She knelt down behind the end of the tub where his head rested. She reached around his shoulders and ran her fingers into his damp chest hair. She felt him flinch as he woke and her hands roamed beneath the surface of the water. Charles moaned contentedly, "Elsie."

"Truce," she whispered directly into his ear. He nodded eagerly, afraid to speak. He removed the washcloth from his eyes as she stood up and stepped around to the side of the tub. He offered her a hand as she stepped into the still warm water.

His great bulk went a long way towards filling the smallish porcelain tub, but she found enough space to rest her legs as she straddled him. There was precedent, after all, and she knew they would both fit.

"I believe I owe you a snug," he teased as he pulled her flush against him. "With interest."

"I'm very interested in that interest." She put a hand between them and found what interested her most.

"That interest is very interested in you," Charles growled and tried to sit up more in the tub. She had to place both hands on the sides of the tub to steady herself as he moved beneath her.

"That doesn't make any sense, love." Elsie laughed at his nonsensical flirting. Her laughter had been rare in recent days. The sound of it was like an aphrodisiac to him.

"Perhaps I should just shut up and show you." His hands gripped her buttocks firmly, grinding her teasingly against him in a dance of mutual stimulation. Her knees drew up on either side of him. The water in the tub began to slosh about, sometimes with them and sometimes against them.

"Yes, I think that would be best," she gasped. With her hands still clasping the rim of the tub, she leaned her head back. "Show me, Charles."

"With pleasure, love."

TBC...

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**AN/ This bathtub interlude was not planned, but all the lovely tumblr posts of Jim yesterday and your reviews softened my cruel, cruel heart.**


	29. Afraid to Know

Charles and Elsie showed up for dinner just in time. They were both flushed and less meticulously turned out than usual.

"It was all my fault, I'm afraid," Charles explained. "I was so tired from our day that I took a bit of a nap and made us late."

"Nearly late," Cora corrected him as she cast an appraising eye at Elsie. Her sister-in-law's blush told her plenty. "And we are still waiting for Edith."

"Yes," Mary quipped, "Apparently, the 3:10 London train has had a rash of mechanical issues lately. I think she'd get here earlier if she took the 4:15."

Cora glared warningly at Mary. While it was good to have Mary slowly becoming her old self, Cora had to admit that the house had been more harmonious with her daughters not throwing barbs at each other constantly. That respite was ostensibly over.

"Robert tells me you all had a delightful day." Cora steered the conversation. "Though I am sad to hear that old farmer Drewe has taken a turn for the worse."

"I'm afraid it won't be long now." Tom confirmed. "If his health could stand it, we'd have moved him into a small cottage long ago. He'd have been more comfortable, I think, but he didn't want to leave the farm."

"Who will take over the land?" Cora asked.

"No one, I imagine. We'll add it to the land we farm ourselves. He has a son who moved to Manchester as soon as he could, took a factory job, I understand." Robert speculated.

"Sorry I was late," Edith apologized, bursting into the room.

"We're used to it," Mary snarked.

Edith's step stuttered slightly. She wasn't sure if she was allowed to return Mary's abuse yet. The etiquette books weren't very clear on when it was appropriate to resume hostilities with a widowed sister. The truth was, Edith didn't want to fight with Mary, but neither Sybil nor Matthew's death had brought the sisters closer together.

"Dinner is served," Barrow announced.

Isobel and Violet were absent from tonight's dinner, so Charles was spared any more questions about Grigg. He chatted lightly with Edith about some favorite spots in London for the first half of the meal and then spent the remainder discussing Italy with Cora. Elsie was between Robert and Tom and was entertained by stories of the estate tour.

"You should take your camera with you next time," Elsie suggested to Robert. "It would be interesting to document the improvements you are making."

Robert liked this idea very much. He'd been playing with the camera since Christmas, but mainly taking portraits or interior pictures. The first prints he'd received back from London had been surprisingly good. He seemed to have a natural eye for composition. Even Violet had complimented him.

Charles and Elsie had not stayed long after dinner. Most everyone was too tired to stay up with them. They walked home side by side. They usually walked hand-in-hand. Their bathtub hijinks had calmed them both, but the estrangement was still there. Charles knew it was his fault.

"Elsie, love?"

"Yes?"

"We didn't have time to talk this afternoon. Not that I'm complaining," he hastened to add. "I much prefer what we did to arguing."

"I'm glad to hear that," she answered slyly. "I'd be sorry to hear that you preferred to argue."

"I don't like it at all when we argue."

"I don't like it when you don't trust me," she rejoined.

"Is that why you think I'm not telling you about Grigg?" Charles pulled up short and stared at her open mouthed.

"What other reason could there be?" She demanded. "Why won't you tell me the hold Grigg has over you?"

He considered for a moment. "Because I'm worried..."

_"Worried?_" Her voice rose in volume and in tone. She obviously didn't believe him. "This is more than worried."

"Alright then," Charles yelled back at her. "I'm afraid. Is that what you want to hear? I'm afraid. Are you happy now?" He walked on.

"What are you afraid of?"

Charles was walking at a manic pace, gesticulating with his hands as if trying to pull the words directly from his mouth. He stopped abruptly, as though he'd hit a wall, but what he'd really hit upon was the truth. Charles lowered his head and his voice. "I'm afraid you won't love me anymore if you know everything."

Elsie was breathing heavily from the exertion of keeping up with him. After a few recovery pants, she answered him in a calm and reassuring voice. "There is nothing you could say that would make me stop loving you, Charles."

"I hope that is true. I don't want to keep anything from you, Elsie. I will tell you everything…eventually." He promised.

"Why not now?"

"The truth is…I don't know… that is, Grigg's presence has stirred up things I'd hoped would stay dormant; things I'd purposefully forgotten. I'm still remembering and coming to terms with those memories." He shook his head as if banishing the unwanted past. "You'd have to understand my life back then. I was a different man. At least, I hope I was different."

"Tell me about that man," She wanted to understand. "I want to know about the man you were."

"I was lost," he answered simply. "I was forty years old and I'd just spent the last two years of my life watching the old Earl die slowly. We didn't entertain, we didn't travel. The most excitement I'd had was when he attacked me with the saber. Being at Downton and being in service felt like a prison sentence. I was glad when he died. His death set me free.

"I couldn't stay here, but where could I go? I wanted to leave service, but that's hardly an age to start a new career. I went to London. My savings lasted a little while, but eventually, I had to find work. A friend from my earlier days in the theatre found me a job sweeping up and doing odd jobs in a shabby theatre east of Covent Garden. That's where I met Grigg.

"We started our act. We did well. The money wasn't very good, but we had a roof over our heads and food on our table most days. It was the lowest point of my life, but, in many ways, I was never more alive." Charles' eyes were glassy as they looked back into the past. "Everyone should know how it feels to have a theatre full of people cheering for them. That rush of affection from the crowd is intoxicating, but the crowd is as fickle as a capricious woman. The amazing feeling never lasted."

"Is that why you left?"

"No. Grigg was why I left." Charles shook his head and his eyes cleared.

"What happened between the two of you?"

"I don't even know how to begin to answer that question."

"You could start by telling me about Alice." Elsie felt guilty steering the conversation to Alice, but she still had to know.

"But I can't. That's one of the things I don't want to remember. Besides, Alice wasn't the reason we fell out, she was just…in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Both you and Grigg loved her?"

"No, that's the greatest shame of it all." Elsie felt selfish relief wash over her. He hadn't loved Alice. There was such deep despair in his voice and his body that Elsie did not even consider disbelieving him.

"Neither of us loved her, but we were both willing to use her for our own ends." Charles admitted, unable to look up from the grass beneath his feet. "I don't even know what happened to her. That's why I don't want to see Grigg, because I don't want to know. I'm _afraid_ to know."

"How could the truth be any worse that what you've imagined? Isn't it better to know?"

"Suspecting the worst is far better than confirming it. If I only imagine the worst, I can at least tell myself there is the possibility that it didn't happen. If I know...if I know, there's no escaping my responsibility."

"What do you mean, your 'responsibility?'"

"Please, Elsie, he'll be gone tomorrow and I'll tell you everything as soon as I am able. Please, can we leave it there tonight?" He looked tired and beaten. The deep frown on his face aged him a decade older than his sixty five years.

Elsie knew that she could easily have won this argument. She could have pushed him to continue. She could see that he did not have the strength to fight her, but suddenly, winning didn't matter. "Very well, love." She agreed. She could see that he could give no more tonight. She would be content with this start. She had the one answer that mattered most to her. Charles had never loved Alice. He hadn't lied to her about that.

They reached the cottage and Elsie opened the door. Elsie took Charles' coat off of him and hung it up beside her own. Elsie felt guilty for having been jealous of a memory. Whatever Charles' history with Grigg and Alice, it was obviously painful. He loved her now which should be enough. She had been so obsessed with how this ghost from his past had affected her that she'd been blinded to how it must be affecting him. It was _his_ past after all, not hers. Elsie promised herself she would put aside her selfish thoughts for now and focus on supporting Charles. She would show that he was right to trust her.

They dressed for bed quickly and climbed in beside one another. She drew him to her bosom and held his head against her chest. He sighed and began to relax as she teased his hair lovingly while placing gentle kisses upon his forehead. Her arms, her scent and her love surrounded him.

"Thank you, Elsie."

"For what, love?"

_ For believing the best of me. For pushing me, but knowing when to stop. For letting me tell you in my time. For being you. For loving me._ "Just...thank you. Thank you, my dearest Elsie."

He drifted reluctantly off to sleep like a child afraid of the nightmares that awaited him. She stayed awake as long as she could to keep the nightmares away.

TBC…

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**AN/ Maybe not the knockdown, drag out fight you were expecting, but this is just round one. She knows a little more, but she is still far from knowing everything. As you may have guessed, I will not be following canon for the Alice story. It was too boring for my liking.**

**I don't know what's going on with Fanfic right now, the reviews are wonky and I can't see the latest chapter of certain stories. I hope this posts okay. If you REALLY need to send a review and the site says you can't, you may review as a guest or PM me. I'd really like your thoughts on this chapter.  
**


	30. Good Riddance

"I'll be back for lunch," She promised as she slipped into her coat. Elsie wanted to beg him to come, wanted to force him to come, but that would be the worst thing she could do. It had to be his choice. It seemed as though he had made it.

"Please make sure Mrs. Crawley knows that I do appreciate what she's done; what she tried to do."

"I'll leave that to you, Charles, but not today." She tied a warm scarf around her neck and put her hand on the door handle. "Last chance…"

He looked at her and smiled sadly. Charles was still seated at the breakfast table in his robe. "Thank you, love." He appreciated that she wasn't trying to force his hand, but she still hadn't given up on him.

The walk to the village took no time at all. She walked briskly, trying to keep warm in the icy February morning and trying to stay away from the thoughts in her head. Now that she was away from the cottage, she could stop focusing on comforting Charles. Her mind wandered. She kept hearing his words, 'use her for our own ends' and 'there's no escaping my responsibility.' What had he meant? He hadn't loved Alice, she was confident of that, but could he have been intimate with her regardless of his feelings? He was a man, after all. But that would mean that he had lied to her. She didn't feel as though he had. She truly hoped he hadn't, because she wasn't sure if she was ready to forgive that.

Elsie was brought out of her thoughts by the sight of Dr. Clarkson as they approached Crawley House from opposite directions. "Doctor, I didn't know you were coming to see off Mr. Grigg."

"Good morning, Mrs. Carson. I want to make sure Mrs. Crawley's guest makes it to the train okay." Richard had some notion that Grigg might resist leaving the cozy nest he'd found at Crawley House.

"That's very good of you, doctor."

They collected Mrs. Crawley and Mr. Grigg. Elsie was no doctor, but she could see that Grigg's health had improved considerably in the past week. It was almost miraculous. She was also struck by the fact that Grigg now possessed a suitcase as well as a cane. She knew Isobel had provided him with some clothing in addition to the suit he wore, but Elsie also remembered Charles' comment about being lucky if all Grigg did was steal some silver. She wondered if Grigg would be insulted if she asked to inspect the contents of the case.

The four of them walked the short distance across town to the railway station. Isobel purchased Grigg's ticket before they all headed up to the platform. Grigg and Isobel led the way. They were an optimistic pair compared to the cynical Scots that followed. Grigg seemed to anticipate something or someone on the platform. He could have been looking up the tracks for the train, but Elsie thought it more likely he was looking for Charles.

The tracks and the platform were empty. The station master appeared just as the train arrived. There was the high-pitched sound of steel on steel as the train slowed and finally stopped. Steam billowed from the engine like a dense fog hanging low on the moors. A figure walked out of the steam. It was Charles. His face was unreadable as he approached.

Charles tipped his hat to Mrs. Crawley as he stopped before them.

"Good morning, Mr. Carson," Isobel said brightly.

"I hope I'm not in the way," Charles apologized. Elsie felt his gaze brush over her, but knew he had not come here to seek her comfort, but to seek an answer to a question he did not want to ask.

"Not a bit. You remember Mr. Grigg."

Charles fixed his stony glare on his former partner. Grigg stepped forward confidently and smiled. "Hello, Charlie. Good of you to come." Grigg nodded towards the end of the platform and Charles stepped aside and gestured for Grigg to lead the way.

"I'm delighted," Isobel proclaimed, sounding more like herself than she had in over six months. "But I'm not surprised."

"Aren't you?" Elsie gave her a look, "Because I'm _astonished._"

Dr. Clarkson seemed to share Elsie's assessment. What Elsie didn't tell Isobel was that Charles was not here to mend fences or stitch wounds; he was here to determine exactly what sum he needed to enter into his personal ledger. It was a ledger she hoped he would open up to her very soon.

"But why did you never speak of Alice when we last met, before the war?" Grigg wondered.

"I didn't want to remember her." Charles admitted. "She chose her path all those years ago and that was it. Why bring it up?"

"Because that wasn't it. Course, she's dead now."

"I didn't know she was dead." _Please let it be recent,_ Charles prayed.

"She visited me while I was in prison. Told me she was pregnant. Said it were mine."

"You know damn well it was."

"She couldn't prove it. Anyway, I made it clear that I wasn't interested in her or a family."

"What became of the child?"

"The child were never born. They said it were an accident. People fall in the river all the time."

Though he'd often assumed it, now Charles knew the worst. "Why didn't she contact me? I would have helped her."

"How should I know? It were twenty-five years ago, what does it matter now?" Grigg shrugged.

That was when Charles knew that Charlie had not changed. But Charles had. He'd given his life to service and he'd been rewarded for years of loyalty. He had a family and people who cared about him. More importantly, he had someone he loved; someone to protect. He had someone that Charlie Grigg would never come near again.

The conductor called 'all aboard' as Grigg and Carson reached the end of the platform.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Isobel interjected. "But I think you must get aboard."

Grigg opened the compartment door before addressing Isobel. "I can't tell you how grateful I am, Mrs. Crawley." He shook her hand vigorously.

"Very good luck," she wished him.

"Thank you." He started to climb aboard, but stopped. "I doubt we'll meet again, but can we shake on it? We've known some ups and downs together, it's true, but if this is goodbye, let's part as friends, eh?"

For Mrs. Crawley's sake, Charles took Grigg's hand, but he did not bother to remove his glove as he would have for a true friend. Isobel looked very pleased. She had stepped back to give the old pals some privacy.

"There we are," Grigg beamed as he took Charles' hand. "And don't spare Alice another thought; it weren't anyone's fault, Charlie. Accidents happen."

"Aye, they do, _Charlie_." Charles growled low so no one else could hear. "And if your shadow ever darkens my doorstep, if you ever contact my wife or Mrs. Crawley again, you'll find an accident waiting for you."

Grigg was shocked by this and looked up into Charles' burning eyes. His smug mask flickered and a look of fear flashed across his face before he recovered. "Who knew Charlie Carson could stoop so low?"

"I was born a bastard, Charlie. What's your excuse?" Charles Carson slammed the compartment door shut on Charlie Grigg and turned the handle as the train started to move. Isobel stepped forward again to stand beside Charles as the locomotive pulled out of the station. She looked very pleased with herself and Charles had no reason to rob her of her triumph. Still, he could not let her be the one responsible for Grigg.

"Mrs. Crawley, I should be grateful if you would let me know any expenses you've been put to on Mr. Grigg's behalf during his stay with you."

"Oh, no, that's completely unnecess…"

"I should be grateful." _Give me a sum, give me a penance to pay,_ his heart cried out. _Let me do something._

"Very well, Mr. Carson, I shall do that."

"Good day to you."

He tipped his hat again and walked away. He walked right by Elsie, barely sparing her a glance. Elsie was hurt, but reminded herself that this moment was about him and his pain. She scurried quickly after him.

"Mr. Carson? Shall we walk back together?"

"I think you and Mrs. Crawley should go to lunch. Celebrate your victory." He said wryly. It came out more sarcastically than he'd meant for it to. "I promised Mr. Bates I'd help him with something today." It was a lie and they both knew it. He needed to be alone. He needed time to absorb the truth about Alice. He was still reeling with the news he'd learned from Grigg. Alice was dead. An unborn child was dead as well. The worst had gotten worse. He wasn't ready to be helped. He needed to think of how he would tell his wife the truth without losing her.

The lie was for Mrs. Crawley's benefit, but Charles was sorry he'd said anything when he saw Elsie's hurt expression. He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. "I know the truth now, love, and I need some time. We'll talk later. I promise."

Elsie nodded. When he turned to walk away, she did not follow him though she wanted to with all her heart.

-00-

Elsie spent the whole of lunch worrying about Charles. She could tell he was upset and angry, but it was mostly sadness she had seen in him. He had assured her that they would talk, so she tried to remind herself of that. Luckily, Dr. Clarkson had joined them and the whole charitable episode had reinvigorated Isobel. She chattered away about this charity or that cause. Elsie's participation was not essential to perpetuate the conversation.

After lunch, Elsie bid Isobel and Dr. Clarkson farewell and rushed back to the cottage on the Abbey grounds. The door was unlocked, so she knew he was there. She found him in a chair before the fire, staring into the hearth with such intensity that it appeared as though his gaze had set the coals aflame.

He looked up as he heard her light step. When he saw her, he saw the fear in her face. His own countenance changed immediately. He answered her unasked question. "I'm alright, love. I'm ready to talk now, if you still want to hear."

"Of course I want to hear," she assured him. "Did you eat something?"

He shook his head.

"I'll make tea and we can talk properly." She made quick work of preparing a tea tray. She thought she'd try to lighten his mood. "I had Isobel count the silver. It's all there."

"I'm glad Grigg behaved himself." He smiled drolly at her joke, but the smile faded quickly. "It was irresponsible of me to let Mrs. Crawley take him in."

"It's done her a world of good, though Isobel did admit that she was glad to see the back of him. He was making Mrs. Field uneasy with all his flirting."

"He was flirting with Mrs. Field? Did he not try his charms on you or Mrs. Crawley?"

"I'm sure he thought he was being charming, but he quickly gave up on getting anything more than a hot meal and a train ticket out of either of us."

"I'm glad to hear it."

She set the tray down and poured out their tea. Charles picked up a biscuit and nibbled at the corner like a church mouse. He placed the partially eaten biscuit back on the plate. He had no appetite.

"I suppose it all started with Tamara," he began.

"You mean Alice," she corrected him.

"No. I mean Tamara."

Elsie's heart clenched. Dame Tamara Stojaspal was not someone that Elsie trusted, in the past or the present.

TBC...

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**AN/ Dun Dun DUN! You'll need to pay attention, the next chapter is going to get messy…**

**No, there's no little Carson running around and there was never any chance of it. I did specifically hint at it to make people doubt everything they believed about Carson, much like Elsie must be doing. **

**Rest assured, Grigg is the dog in this story. We'll see why Carson feels responsible for Alice's fate in the next update.**


	31. The Jackal and The Dove

Charles' hands rested on his knees, palms up, fingers flexing nervously as he began his tale. "It all started when Tamara came to the theatre.

"Or maybe it was even before that. You see, Tamara was the friend who got me the job at the theatre. After I joined Grigg, I wrote to tell her 'thank you' and to tell her that I'd found a new act. She never replied.

"Grigg and I had been performing together for over a year before she came to see the act. We'd been on the road for a while and had just returned to the London theatre for several months. She'd been performing at the Royal Opera House but was between productions. After the show, she invited herself backstage. I didn't invite her, but she knew the theatre manager. That's how she secured the initial job for me.

"She pushed right into our dressing room after the show like she owned the place. Grigg was already dressed, probably in a hurry to meet up with his latest gal. I wasn't quite so lucky but, thankfully, I did have my trousers on. Tamara ignored Grigg completely and started going on about how good I'd been. She was her normal…_demonstrative_ self."

Elsie could only imagine the scene; a physically aggressive she wolf in a dressing room with her half-dressed husband. Not that Charles had been her husband at the time. She forced her breathing to calm and prepared herself to hear him out.

"Grigg had never seen me walking out with any woman so he assumed that Tamara was my girl. He thought I'd been hiding her from him. It wasn't a stretch for him to think so. If I _had _been seeing anyone, I _would _have hidden it from him."

"Why would you have hidden that from him?"

"What you have to understand about Grigg is that he had this notion that he and I were always in competition. I don't know how it started or what insecurities drove him, but there was nothing that I could have or even think of having that he didn't try to beat me to or steal. It didn't matter if it was a new hat or a girl. They both meant the same to Grigg. He didn't care as long as it meant beating me at something.

"For instance, if I happened to mention that I liked a hat, a few days later Grigg would show up wearing that very hat. He'd strut around and say things like, 'How d'ya like my hat, Charlie boy? Wasn't this the one you liked? I bet you wish you had this hat.' He was obsessive about it. It would have been funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

"Charlene had been his idea. He'd wanted to humiliate me by making me dress as a woman. He'd almost been angry when that part of the act had been such a success.

"Over our time together, I learned to keep my opinions to myself. I was careful not to speak to any of the girls in the chorus for fear he might turn his attentions towards them. It won't surprise you to learn that he was less than a gentleman with his ladies. In fact, he was a right cad. Most of the women he hung out with knew this. I suppose that was part of the draw. They all thought they could change him. They were all wrong."

Charles paused and ran a hand through his hair. He took a sip of the cooling tea.

"I introduced Grigg to Tamara as I finished dressing. Tamara offered to take me out to dinner as a welcome home to London. I was going to decline, but Grigg accepted for me and managed to get himself invited. He turned on the charm full blast. By the end of the evening, I returned to our shared room alone and he went home with her.

"Had he figured out that you weren't walking out with her?"

"Who knows? He probably thought he'd taken her off me. He thought he was just that charming. I knew her well enough to know better. She had started flirting with Grigg to make me jealous, but I think she soon realized that I still wasn't interested and Grigg was better prepared to entertain her than I was.

"Anton was in Prague for a family emergency. Tamara was bored and at loose ends." Charles dipped his head in shame. "I was glad Grigg was there to deflect her attentions. At least, I was glad at first.

"Soon, the two of them were inseparable. A relationship made up of two amoral narcissists is not a pretty thing. Thankfully, I wasn't privy to most of their shenanigans. They fed off each other's idle whims and licentious behavior. At one point, Grigg asked me if I had ever heard of ménage a trois."

"He didn't!" Elsie nearly spilled her tea at the very thought.

"He tried to sell me on the idea. From his arguments, I gathered that they had already experienced it several times, though I don't know what it's called when there are more than three. I can't imagine the poor men and women those two jackals must have devoured in their lustful wickedness. I chose to remain in the dark, but then, they started a scheme that I couldn't ignore."

Charles shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to look up and see the disappointment he was sure to find in Elsie's eyes.

"Tamara came to most of our shows. She started to seduce wealthy, society men from the crowd. She would lure them to a hotel or her flat. She would get them into compromising positions. Grigg would bust in and claim to be her husband. He would threaten to expose the man as a seducer and philanderer unless he was paid.

"It wasn't long before they had it down to a science. They once had four victims in one week; two on one night."

"Why would they do that?"

"Grigg needed the money, but Tamara didn't. She did it for the sport. She would brag to me about her conquests. Sometimes she would seduce women just for the challenge. Sometimes when she'd seduced a woman, it wasn't money they asked for when Grigg caught them."

"What did they ask…oh." Elsie realized the answer before she finished the question._ Ménage a trois, indeed. _

"I could have warned people, but I was so disgusted by the behavior, I just shut it out. I was still living hand to mouth. I couldn't afford to break from Grigg. I started looking for a way out.

"That's where Alice comes in." He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose before giving a great sigh and continuing. He stared at his hands as he spoke.

"Her name was Alice Neale. We worked in a few theatres together. She had a singing act with her sister; 'The Lark and The Dove' they were called."

"Which was she?"

"The Dove I suppose; her sister had the voice, but Alice was a gentle soul, sweet and a gentle soul. "

"And you were courting?"

"Well, you know how it was then. You never spoke directly to the girl. It was her brother-in-law that I knew first; Jeffrey Robbins. He was their accompanist and he sang with them sometimes. He saw that I was unhappy with Grigg and he approached me with a proposition. They wanted to expand the act. They had a soprano, mezzo soprano and a tenor. They needed a baritone."

His hands twitched and his jaw clenched. It was obvious that they were nearing the part he was most ashamed of.

"It was a perfect fit, but Alice's sister, Fiona, wouldn't let a man join the act unless he was Alice's husband. Jeffrey and I agreed that I would woo and wed Alice." Charles was wringing his hands painfully now and almost near tears.

"I'm not proud of our scheme, but I was desperate. I wanted my freedom so badly, I could taste it. In my forty years, I'd never met anyone I wanted to marry nor did I think I was likely to. The upper class have their marriages of convenience; I'd seen enough of them as a footman and a valet. Most of them seemed civil enough. I figured if it was good enough for nobility, it was good enough for me.

"Alice was pretty and, as I said, she was a gentle soul. I could have done worse and I knew I couldn't stay where I was. Alice and I hadn't exchanged more than two words before I joined the three of them for dinner one night.

"Alice was shy and barely spoke through the whole dinner. I knew almost immediately that I couldn't marry her. She was a sweet girl, but not fiery enough for my taste." He did not look up to see if Elsie appreciated this bit of flattery.

"I went home after that first dinner more depressed than I'd been before. My escape plan wasn't going to work. To make matters worse, that was one of the nights that Grigg had decided to bring Tamara back to our room. Her place was empty, but they split time between her flat and our room, which was more convenient to the theatre.

"Our room was not large. It was divided by a pair of screens. We each had our own bed. Grigg's bed was the one with the most privacy, while mine was in the common space. They made no attempt to hide their activities from me. I think they did it on purpose to goad me. It was all a game to them. I spent many a night with my pillow tied around my head.

"After a miserable and near sleepless night, I decided that I had not given Alice enough of a chance. The next day, I asked Jeffrey to set up a tea with just Alice and me. I thought she might talk more or show more personality if it was just the two of us. She didn't. The poor girl was dull as toast, and that might be selling toast short.

"Unfortunately for Alice, Grigg saw us together at the tea shop and he thought I fancied her. That warped sense of competition overtook him. He took it on himself to woo and win her. He dropped Tamara like a ton of bricks. For a whole week she would come to the theatre and beg him to take her back. It was the only time I ever saw Tamara cry off stage.

"Grigg seduced Alice easily enough. He lied to her and told her everything she wanted to hear. He told her she was too good for a double act; that she should be a soloist. She left her sister and moved in with him. I moved out. I slept in the theatre and swept up after the shows to pay for my bed.

"Without the Lark, the Dove wasn't much of an act. She'd thought that Grigg would move her into our act, or, better yet, replace me with her. Grigg knew she wasn't talented enough to be of any use to him. Content with his conquest and content that he had bested me, Grigg cut her loose when the company left London for a tour of the Northern counties.

"I didn't know she'd left the company until we were on the train. Grigg and I only spoke to each other at the theatre by then.

"Grigg decided he really loved Tamara. He was determined to win her back when we returned to London, but Tamara was a woman with expensive tastes and her forgiveness would not come cheap. That was when Grigg started stealing from the till. He was caught after less than a month and thrown in jail.

"That was the end of the Cheerful Charlies and that was when the Dowager Countess found me. A life in service didn't seem so bad anymore and Downton became more of a sanctuary than a prison. I came back gratefully and never looked back. At least, I tried not to. Even when Grigg showed up all those years ago I refused to truly face the past. But then he returned again and you and Mrs. Crawley invited him into our lives. I found that I'd avoided remembering for as long as I could.

"I didn't want to see him today, but now that the past has been exhumed, I had to know it all before I could bury it again. I asked Grigg about Alice."

"And what did he say?" Elsie was afraid to ask, but had to know.

"She's dead. Twenty-five years ago, Grigg refused to accept his responsibility. She drowned in the river. She killed herself and her unborn child." Charles buried his face in his hands as he began to sob. "They're dead and I killed them."

TBC…

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**AN/ So, there you have it. I'm sure you have thoughts, I would love to hear them. I will be super busy this weekend, so there will be no updates until Tuesday. This is actually the best place I could leave it, I'm not being purposefully cruel.**

**Also, this has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with Downton, but the BING homepage today (8/23/14) has the cutest picture of a porcupine baby EVER. You're Welcome.**


	32. Contemplating a Scar

Charles still hadn't looked up at her; not since beginning his story. Elsie placed a hand on his knee to let him know she was still there and she waited as he sobbed. She did not think she would have to wait long. Elsie remembered one of her mother's sayings, 'Tears are like rain; the harder they fall, the sooner they stop.'

Elsie had never really understood that saying, she'd seen plenty of hard rains that lasted for hours, but she had to admit that they were rare. The nearest she could figure was that her mother meant the body couldn't sustain deep soul racking sobs for very long. Even when her mother had died, Elsie had cried herself into headached exhaustion within an hour. Once again, her mother's wisdom proved true. It was not long before Charles' tears ceased. He removed a hand from his face and covered hers on his knee.

Elsie didn't know what more she could do. His conclusion that he'd killed Alice and her child was insane to Elsie, but Charles obviously felt that it was true. Any person of sense would see that Grigg was the one to blame for Alice's condition. For that matter, even in such desperate straits, Alice did not have to take her own life. She could have sought out her sister before taking such drastic action. Unfortunately, none of these arguments were likely to hold much water with Charles at this moment.

Elsie was shocked at some of the revelations Charles had shared, but in some ways, they explained a lot about him.

Charles' second stint in the theatre had been decidedly more trying than his first. He had been most unfortunate in his selection of colleagues. Charles' fanatical devotion to propriety upon his return to Downton now made perfect sense to Elsie. She saw that his iron-fisted control over the staff must have been born directly from this negative experience of human nature in the absence of structure. His simplistic world view had become women are vulnerable victims to be protected while men are opportunistic dogs to be held at bay. Elsie had always had trouble reconciling the kind man she knew him to be with some of his actions, particularly those towards Ethel. Elsie thought she understood now.

Charles felt that the household and the family were his to protect from this harsh 'outside' world. People who flaunted the rules and chose to voluntarily leave the protection of Downton were cast out. Gwen and Alfred had left thoughtfully and with a plan, but, in his mind, Ethel had rejected his benevolence through her willful actions. This made it harder for him to extend her any charity when she returned in need. He had not forbidden Elsie's helping the girl, even he wasn't pigheaded enough to try that, but he had required that she inform Her Ladyship. Even Elsie had to admit this had been fair.

His harshest condemnation for Ethel was after the revelation of her former, shameful occupation and that had been yet another way for him to defend the family. Once Lady Grantham and the Dowager had given Mrs. Crawley's unconventional choice of cook and housekeeper their stamp of approval, he had been silent on the subject. Well, mostly silent.

Elsie saw that Grigg and Tamara had hardened and strengthened Charles' sense of propriety through blatant abuse. Elsie's earlier assessment had been wrong. These memories weren't an open wound; they were a mass of scar tissue barely visible on the surface but running deep, even to his very core.

Elsie regretted doubting Charles and longed so much to help him, but she wondered how she could comfort him without disparaging his self-perceived guilt. She would have to gently bring him around to her point of view; to see that he was innocent. It would not be the work of one day, Elsie suspected. She would have to be patient; much more patient than she felt at the moment.

Though her fears concerning Alice had proven unfounded, Elsie found her relief was overshadowed by her irritation that Charles had deceived her yet again about Tamara. Though she loved him, Elsie didn't trust herself to speak to Charles right now. She hoped that speaking would not be required.

He had ceased crying, but he would not look up. Elsie knew he was afraid of what he might find; afraid that she would judge him as harshly as he judged himself. Elsie had an idea. She lifted his chin and drew his red-rimmed eyes up to hers. She gave him a smile full of every ounce of unconditional love she had for him. She wanted to show him the truest love in her heart, the love that would endure anything, the love that was out of her control.

Elsie assumed that she'd succeeded in opening her heart fully because his tortured features relaxed and his smile returned her every sentiment gratefully.

"Let's go home, love," she whispered.

"Today?" He wondered at her suggestion in a hoarse voice.

"If we pack this instant, we can be in Hull by eight." Since their arrival at Downton, Charles and Elsie had been under various levels of strain. They'd felt pushed and pulled between their upstairs family and their downstairs friends. They'd fought over Grigg, they'd made love despite their disagreements and they'd fought some more. All in all, it had been a stress filled week. Elsie longed to be home.

Charles agreed. _Home. Yes._ He nodded.

TBC…

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**AN/ I think Elsie is wise to postpone the big conversation. Just being reassured of her affection is enough for him for now.**

**Sorry this is super short and that I did not reply to all of your very thoughtful and thought-provoking reviews, but last minute back-to-school stuff has overwhelmed me. I didn't think I was procrastinating as much this year. I was wrong.**

**On the positive side, I have many new updates and stories to read and review when things quiet down. **


	33. A Gift Revisited

**AN/ Here's a short bit of fluff before the storm...**

* * *

Even though they were absent, the Carsons were the main topic of the evening at Downton, upstairs and down. Almost everyone knew that Charles had come to the station to see off Grigg. Most of them accepted Isobel's version of events where all was forgiven and old friends had reconnected in a deeply satisfying way that was sure to enrich both their lives. However, to those who knew the former butler best, the Carsons' hasty departure did not seem to support this rosy interpretation.

Mary thought Isobel's story too sweet by half and suspected that Carson had put on a show for her benefit. Mrs. Patmore knew something was up because she knew, after years of listening to her complain about thoughtless dinner guests, neither Charles nor Elsie would have cancelled their dinner plans with the family lightly. Lord Grantham found it strange that Charles and Elsie had not offered their farewell in person. He found the short note he had received unsatisfactory. If he had not been reassured in the letter that Charles was still looking forward to returning in two weeks, Robert would have been tempted to follow his brother to Hull to ascertain the reason for the premature departure.

Most people accepted that the couple was probably tired of the intense scrutiny they had been under since the announcement of Mr. Carson's parentage. No one begrudged them the luxury of returning home two days after they'd intended and one day earlier than expected.

It was half past eight when Charles and Elsie climbed the stairs to their eccentric little flat. Charles gave a weary sigh as he turned the key. The journey home had been tiresome and filled with awkward silences, but Elsie's instincts were right. It was good to be home. As quaint and roomy as their Downton cottage was, this corner of Hull felt like home to them both. They had bonded with this odd apartment in the early days of their marriage; the personalities of the occupants melding with the personality of the rooms. It was a space where form followed function, echoing the practicality of it's occupants. The kitchen space was spare and efficient, perfect for imperfect cooking. The modest bathroom was well appointed, with nothing superfluous or gaudy. The bedroom was dominated by the massive new bed that united the room rather than divided it. And now…

"Ah! There it is!" Elsie exclaimed and practically skipped to her new couch; for she did consider it hers. It had been a gift, after all. She flung herself across it as if embracing the new piece of furniture. Charles smiled at the sight. It felt odd to smile, but he was pleased to see that Elsie was still able to find such joy in this simple thing. If they were still to have the excruciating conversation he anticipated, he was glad it might take place on such a fine couch with such happy connotations.

"Now I see why you were in such a rush to get home," he kidded her. He knelt by the fireplace and quickly lit the small pile of coals in the stove.

"Oh, Charles, it's just perfect." His spine tingled. Something about his wife sprawled on their new couch saying, 'Oh, Charles,' awoke a hunger in him. She had said she still loved him. Now, he craved the proof. Whether she was aware of her effect on him or not, Elsie continued.

"This is exactly the one. I must thank Emily tomorrow." She rolled over so she could see Charles as she still lay full length on the couch. There faces were at level with each other as he remained beside the fireplace and she hugged one of the massive pillows to her ecstatically. "And I must thank Nathan and Suzanne for overseeing the delivery."

"Don't I deserve some of this bountiful gratitude?" Elsie was pleased to see the smoldering desire in his eyes and a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You've already been thanked once, or don't you remember?" She joked seductively.

"Oh, I remember," he admitted. "That's why I was hoping to be thanked again."

Elsie sat up and gestured for him to sit beside her. When he joined her, she wrapped her nearest arm around him and placed her other hand possessively on his leg, high on his thigh. She massaged his leg gently, moving her hand confidently to his inner thigh and higher. Charles uttered a long, low moan as he leaned back into the massive pillows of the couch. He had enough sense to kick off his shoes as she pulled his torso towards her. This resulted in him laying the full length of the sofa just as she had done earlier. Through all this motion, her hand had never stopped massaging and teasing him.

"Thank you," Elsie whispered and lay down beside him, marveling at the size of the couch. It was nearly as spacious as the double bed they shared at the Downton cottage, _it's certainly longer._ She smiled wickedly as the thought passed through her mind. The word 'longer' changed her focus from her new couch to her dear husband. She began to massage him with more purpose. Charles groaned in inarticulate pleasure and turned towards her.

As much as he felt his need driving him forward, Charles was mindful of being gentle with his wife. Though they both enjoyed the times when their lovemaking was rough and driven by their basest, lustful desires, this occasion called for a more reverent worship of their physical connection. He touched her shoulder lightly with just his fingertips as he guided her to him. Their bodies wound around each other in a practiced dance as they stripped each other. Sometimes he was above her, sometimes below. Clothing was shed slowly, with soft caresses and kisses welcoming the newly exposed skin as they methodically bid each scrap of fabric farewell.

Finally, they lay, both fully naked, upon the soft fabric of the new sofa. The apartment around them was still cold, but warmth emanated from the small but diligent coal fire. "I need to find a blanket to match the couch," she commented casually, as though her amorous husband were not nestled between her widespread legs.

"Right now?" He teased, shifting them both and pressing firmly against her.

"It can wait," she laughed breathlessly as she tilted her hips and spurred him forward with her heels. Bliss washed over her and her senses readjusted to the sensations of their joining. Elsie was acutely aware of each hair on the back of her neck as his fingers ran up her spine, she felt the soft friction of the new couch on the tender skin of her lower back. Her hearing softened and she could not make out what he was saying. Only after her first climax could she discern that he was simply saying, "My love, oh, my love," over and over again.

In the valley between her releases, her mind cleared and she saw the insecurity in his eyes. She tasted the tears upon his lips even as the smell of their mingled passions filled her nostrils. Elsie knew that he needed her to see him to the end. She pushed herself atop him. "That's it, love," she encouraged, "Mmm. Oh, Charles, that's it."

It was her words as much as her writhing body that drove him skillfully to his release. The small coal fire had warmed the sitting room sufficiently that they could remain comfortably on the couch with no cover. Which is exactly what they did.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ I couldn't have them NOT celebrate the new couch. Also, with this reassurance of their love, even the ensuing discussion (possible argument) will be easier for all involved.**

**Do I really need to justify Chelsie fluff? I didn't think so;)**


	34. Duck, Duck, Cooked Goose

Elsie awoke when Charles kissed her brow. "I'm off to work, love," he told her as she blinked groggily at him. She was still laying on the couch, but now a duvet was wrapped around her rather than her husband. She grunted unhappily at this downgrade.

"I'll be back by lunch," he promised. This odd change in schedule woke her up and she realized that it was Sunday.

"Charles, you can't go to the office on Sunday."

"I'm just going to try to catch up on some of my letters to get a jump start on tomorrow. I'll be back to help you prepare for Nathan and Suzanne." It also served to conveniently remove him from her presence for the majority of the day, but neither of them needed to point this out.

"What about church?"

"We've already overslept church." He pointed to the mantle clock.

"Fine, I'll make you breakfast…"

"I'll be back for lunch," he repeated. His coat was already on and he was half way out the door.

"Charles," she called after him, but he was gone.

-00-

Charles returned at lunch as promised. He returned to a very cold reception as expected.

In his absence, Elsie had run down to the butcher and green grocer for the items needed for tonight's meal with the Heaton's. Nathan and Suzanne were to be their first dinner guests in their home and Elsie had decided upon an ambitious three course meal. While at Downton, Elsie had copied down some of Beryl's recipes and had even written down a few that the cook dictated for her. The preparations were not going as smoothly as Elsie had anticipated. Her frustration with an uncooperative duck only compounded her frustrations with an uncommunicative husband.

Charles tried to conquer her icy manner with an overly cheerful demeanor that did not fit him at all and fooled her not one whit.

"It's a good thing I went in today. I had so much mail, I could hardly see my desk," he joked ineffectually as he strode into the kitchen. His good mood faltered when he saw what she was attempting. "Duck? You don't think that might be too…" She shot him a warning look. "…too fancy for Nate and Suzie's tastes?" He managed to save himself.

"Well, no one will taste it if it's raw," she barked.

"How can I help?"

Despite her growing discontent with Charles, Elsie knew she would have to accept his assistance. Some of their greatest professional successes had been managed during periods of antagonism.

"Read that recipe and tell me what I'm doing wrong. Beryl says to tie the legs to the neck and tuck the wings…blast! The thing looks like a pretzel!"

Charles saw immediately that Elsie needed to flip the bird over, but he struggled with the strings and wings and legs for a while for show. Eventually, he grabbed the bird by the long neck as if in frustrated defeat. He held the duck up, purposefully holding it so that the correct solution presented itself to Elsie almost at once.

"Oh, my stars!" She exclaimed and grabbed the duck back from him.

"What?" He asked with feigned confusion.

"I had it upside down," she admitted, chuckling at herself a little. She was now happy with the bird though still cross with her husband. Charles considered it a triumph.

With the bird trussed and marinating in a dry rub, Elsie prepared sandwiches for their lunch. Charles disappeared and returned from the sitting room with a bouquet of flowers.

"I thought they'd look nice on the table tonight," he offered, holding them out to her with a hopeful and sheepish grin.

Elsie pshawed at him and gestured towards a cupboard. As if she was that easy to appease. "I think there may be a vase in there. If not, there is a water pitcher in the ice box."

Charles looked crestfallen that she wouldn't accept the flowers from him. Though the sentiment was beneath her, Elsie was a little glad to see his disappointment. Charles had to know that the only way to clear the air was to finish their conversation about Alice and Grigg and Tamara. Elsie respected that it was his place to reopen the conversation, but that did not mean she had to be happy about it.

The flowers were placed in a water pitcher and set aside as Elsie set the table for luncheon. Charles removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Elsie placed the plate of sandwiches on the table. "Thank you," he said, though he was afraid to look at her.

"Hmph," was her reply.

Luncheon was consumed in hasty fashion as neither participant wished to endure the silence for long. The last crumb was still being wiped from her mouth as Charles jumped up to clear the table.

"Right, let's cook a duck," he exclaimed.

The evening meal preparations fell into a simple pattern with Elsie taking the ostensible lead and Charles gently nudging her when she strayed off the path. Though Charles was no better a cook than Elsie, he had observed more meals being prepared than she had. Her work rarely called for her to directly oversee the kitchen during meals, but his job had required that he coordinate timings and presentations with Mrs. Patmore for decades. Certainly, Charles knew what every dish was supposed to look like, which gave him a head start on Elsie in most cases.

It was nice to be working together so seamlessly. Even if they were at odds, the professional trust and respect still flowed from them each naturally.

With a bit of team work and a lot of luck, they produced a more than edible dinner for their guests. Charles and Elsie stood side by side as they greeted Nathan and Suzanne at the door. With company to entertain, their silent quarrel was set aside. Suzanne and Nathan wanted to know how the news that Charles was the last Earl's illegitimate son had been received by their Downton friends and acquaintances. Charles and Elsie took turns recounting telling the staff, Robert's announcement in church and the fall out in the village.

Suzanne had the odd feeling that something was off with her friends. While conversation was not stilted and Charles and Elsie were both speaking freely, it soon became apparent that they were speaking to Nathan and Suzanne, not to each other. It took Nathan longer to catch on, but eventually, even he saw the strain between his best friend and Elsie.

Between stories of Downton and updates on things they'd missed in Hull, the dinner passed quickly. The couples removed to the sitting room to admire the new couch and enjoy a sherry. Nathan opted for whiskey and Charles joined him.

"Well, it sounds like things went better than expected," Suzanne observed brightly. "Are you going to tell us why you stayed the extra days?"

For the first time that night, the Carsons looked at each other. They both seemed to think it was the other's place to mention Grigg.

"Ask her," Charles grumbled as Elsie intoned,

"Ask him."

"Shall we flip for it?" Nathan offered cheekily, which earned a scowl from his wife.

"Grigg is _your_ friend," Elsie insisted glowering at Charles.

"He's not my _friend_ and I'm not the one who invited him back into our lives," Charles reminded her. They'd almost forgotten their audience. Suzanne shot Nathan another look.

"You haven't shown me your rooftop garden!" Nathan interrupted with irrational enthusiasm.

Charles looked at his friend as though the man were mad. "My what?"

"Didn't you say you were going to plant some herbs and flowers?"

"Two weeks ago. Do you think they've already sprouted?"

"No, but I'd like to see the before so I can appreciate the after," Nathan insisted, grasping frantically for straws.

"That sounds lovely. Why don't you boys go up to the roof and look at Charles' plants?" Suzanne encouraged.

Finally understanding what his friends were trying to do, Charles accepted his fate. He stood up and gestured to his oldest friend,"Come on, Nate." The two men were halfway out the door when the women heard, "I'll show you my pots of dirt."

Suzanne bit her lip to keep from laughing and was pleased to see Elsie doing the same. "It's a good thing our men are so handsome. It's clear they wouldn't have gotten very far on their wits or their charm."

Elsie did laugh at that. It felt good to do something besides scowl or put on a fake smile.

"Oh, Suze, how can one person be so infuriating?"

"You two are having a spat, I take it?"

"Let's put it this way; if I were up on that roof with Charles, one of us wouldn't come down. Well, not the conventional way."

"And I take it Grigg is the reason?"

"He's the start, but it's more than just Grigg." Elsie didn't think it was her place to expound on Charles' past. She wondered how much Suzanne knew. Fortunately, her friend answered the unasked question.

"Charles wrote Nate almost every week of those two years. I think it was the only thing keeping him sane. Grigg was a nightmare and Charles was mortified at the behavior he witnessed. He told Nate he was ashamed that he didn't put a stop to it."

"It was really that bad?"

Suzanne nodded emphatically. "But then, the letters stopped abruptly. The company had just returned to London. Nate was so worried, he almost went to London to find Charles, but then a letter arrived and we understood." Suzanne paused here, wondering how much Elsie knew.

"Tamara," Elsie muttered.

"If I ever meet that bitch, I'll probably bunch her in her pretty little face." Suzanne shocked Elsie with her vehement hatred. "I've always thought it was pretty impressive that Charles never did."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ More of what Suzanne knows and a tour of the pots of dirt tomorrow…**

**Thoughts and reviews make me happy. Once I get caught up on my own reading and reviewing, I'll be better about replying;)**


	35. Good Counsel

"Of course, Charles wouldn't punch Tamara, no matter how awful she was," Elsie insisted. "Though I will admit, I'm still in awe that he managed to shake Griggs' hand yesterday."

"Did he? That is remarkable," Suzanne agreed. "I wonder what he'd do if he saw Tamara again. I bet he would hit her."

"Why should Charles wish to hit a woman, even one as terrible as Tamara?" Elsie asked, afraid of the answer.

"Grigg was terrible, but Tamara…she was relentless. She absolutely took glee from tormenting Charles; trying to corrupt him."

"How do you know all of this?"

"He didn't write about it explicitly in his letters, but I made sure Nate got the full story. That woman…I suppose it started out seeming like harmless ribbing; she'd joke about Charles joining her and Grigg for dinner _and something more_." Suzanne waggled her eyebrows to indicate what she was implying by 'something more'.

"The longer Tamara and Grigg were together, the worse she got. It got so bad that Charles could barely get a decent night's sleep in his own bed. Apparently, she climbed into bed with him while he was sleeping on several occasions…naked." Elsie's jaw clenched in rage. No wonder Charles wanted to keep this from her.

"Charles told Nate that he'd had to push her out of the bed and onto the floor. He felt badly for being so rough with a woman, but he didn't know what else to do. After that, she backed off, but then she started to bring girls from the audience backstage with her, promising them a 'night they'd never forget' with one of the Cheerful Charlies. They showed up thinking they'd be having a good time with Charles, but usually ended up with Grigg or Tamara…or Grigg _and_ Tamara."

Even through her rage, Elsie could see how guilty being used as the bait for Tamara's trap would make Charles feel. His role in their games must haunt him and all those wronged women must be represented in the person of Alice. Though Tamara wasn't involved directly with Alice, Charles no doubt lamented being the means of leading Grigg to Alice.

"Do you know about Alice?" Elsie asked.

"I know he thinks he ruined her life. She's probably out there somewhere living a perfectly normal life and he's beating himself up, wondering what happened to her and thinking the worst."

"He doesn't have to wonder any more and it was the worst. Grigg told him that Alice is dead."

"Oh? That's too bad." Suzanne's sympathy was sincere.

"She jumped in the river because Grigg wouldn't accept responsibility for her unborn child."

"Oh, my dear heavens." Suzanne exclaimed. "Let me guess, Charles thinks it's all his fault?"

"Of course," Elsie sighed. "He's so busy trying to claim the responsibility for something he couldn't possibly have foreseen that I don't dare bring up the part of his story that bothers me most."

"Tamara?"

"I want to help him, but I'm stuck on this image of her trying to constantly seduce Charles."

"I've just made that worse, haven't I?"

"It's not your fault that he didn't seem to think that was something I would want to know about."

"More like it's something he doesn't _want_ you to know about."

"Exactly! He let me think his past with her was perfectly innocent. He let me write to her. We're supposed to meet her when we're in Milan."

"That doesn't sound like a good idea," Suzanne pointed out the obvious.

Suzanne saw that Elsie was just getting angrier and angrier. She decided to try and calm her friend down. "Elsie, lass, this past week has been pretty eventful for you both. Give him a little space and he'll come to you to talk, I guarantee it."

Elsie was not having any of it. "No. He's always done this; he's always walled off the parts of himself that he can't admit are human. Why does he think I need him to be perfect? Why can't he trust me enough to be completely honest with me?"

"It's who he is, Elsie. It's part of why he was such a good butler; he _wants _the responsibility that others don't and he actually believes that perfection is possible." Suzanne observed.

"Well, I have news for him; people aren't perfect and he doesn't always have to be such a bloody martyr!" Elsie was in a fine fit now.

Afraid that she'd cause more harm than good, Suzanne chose to remain silent. She took a biscuit from the plate and sipped at her sherry. She hoped Nate was having better luck with Charles upstairs.

-00-

Charles kicked petulantly at the tiny clay pots filled with dark soil. "Thyme, parsley, marjoram…"

"Fascinating," Nathan drawled sarcastically.

"_You_ asked to see them."

"I asked to see you. I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, mate, but even I know there's something rotten in Denmark."

"Nate, did you just quote Shakespeare?"

"My best friend happens to be a pretentious prig. Sometimes it wears off on me." Nathan joked, trying to coax the truth from Charles. "Tell me what's going on, mate. I assume Grigg's return stirred up some unpleasant memories."

"That's putting it mildly," Charles thrust his hands deeply into his trouser pockets and stared off over the dusky town. "I found out what happened to Alice."

"And?"

"She killed herself. She was pregnant with Grigg's child."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Nathan commiserated. He noticed Charles tormented posture. "Wait. Charles, you can't be blaming yourself for that?"

"Why not?"

"For starters, you didn't do anything."

"Exactly. Doing nothing is precisely what I am guilty of." He insisted. He shook his head in anguish as he stared over the roof's edge. "I could have warned her, but I just ran away. I could have looked for her after he cast her off or tried to contact her sister and Jeffrey, but I was happy to forget."

"Alice made her own decisions," Nathan tried to reason. "If anyone is to blame for her fate, it's Grigg."

"No. None of this would have happened if I hadn't been such a coward…If I hadn't been willing to use Alice to buy my freedom, she might still be alive."

"But you weren't willing to use her." Nathan reminded him. "You had decided against the plan. You made the right choice."

"It was enough that I considered it. If he hadn't seen us together, Grigg would never have spared her a thought. I might has well have pulled out a gun at the tea shop and shot her then and there. Grigg was the gun and the bullet, but I pointed him at her."

Charles frowned mightily. "Do you blame a gun for being what it is? No, you blame the person who points it and pulls the trigger. That's what I did. She might have had a happy life, but she didn't, because of me."

"I don't agree with you," Nathan said blatantly. "But I can see how your exaggerated sense of responsibility might lead you to take this on yourself."

"My what?"

"Admit it, Charles, you think looking after the whole world is your duty. You had no obligation to Alice, or any of those other girls."

"How can you say that?"

"Because people are responsible for themselves, Charles; for good or ill. You can't be butler to the world."

"I'm not trying…" Charles began to bluster indignantly.

"It's your nature, mate, and I love you for it, but it gets a little old. It's like you don't trust people to live their own lives. You can't anticipate every misstep of everyone you ever knew. You aren't responsible for anyone but yourself."

Charles wanted to argue, but he knew Nathan was right. Hadn't Elsie been trying to tell him this very thing for the last twenty years? What did it matter if the bouillon spoon and the dessert spoons got mixed up? He couldn't say why it mattered, but it did. It did matter to him. Why did people blissfully accept mistakes that were preventable? It drove him to distraction. He knew that he took it all too personally, but he didn't know how else to feel. He did feel responsible for everyone around him. It probably came across as condescending, but he'd seen too many people make too many mistakes not to try to correct the ones he could prevent.

"Does Elsie blame you?" Nathan asked after he saw Charles' hands stop clenching in and out of fists as he clasped them behind his back. "Is that why you two are at odds?"

"I don't know if she blames me. I don't know what she thinks of any of it."

"You did tell her about Alice, didn't you?"

"Yes. I told her about Alice and Grigg. I even told her more about Tamara but then…we haven't really spoken since. She's more likely to be upset by Tamara than by anything Grigg did." Charles slouched even lower.

"Can you blame her?"

"She doesn't even know the worst of it." He hadn't told her about the attempted seductions. "I think she's waiting for me to bring it up again, but I can't seem to find the courage."

"Well, judging by the storm I saw brewing in there, you'd best find it fast. The longer you wait the worst it will get."

"I know."

"Grigg and Tamara plagued you enough all those years ago. Don't let them ruin the best thing that's ever happened to you."

"You're right; I know you're right," Charles agreed. "I just don't know if I can face her disappointment in me."

"You can only be disappointed by people you think of highly," Nathan offered philosophically.

"My pretensions really are wearing off on you," Charles joked sadly. He was lucky and grateful to have a friend like Nathan who could tell him the hard truths. Elsie usually played that role, but he'd shut her out. He knew it was time to fix that.

-00-

The men returned downstairs and Nathan and Suzanne said their thanks and offered their goodbyes. Soon, Charles and Elsie were alone in their flat. Charles gathered up the glasses and plates from the sitting room and brought them to the kitchen.

"Dinner was very fine," Charles said lamely.

"Stranger things have happened," Elsie shot back. Her anger was palpable. Charles shrank away from her imperceptibly. Now was not the best moment to talk about Alice and Tamara, but he would at least offer the opportunity and see if she took it.

"I'll wash if you dry," he offered, indicating the small pile of dishes in the sink.

"It's late. You have to work tomorrow and I have a headache. I'll clean up tomorrow." With that, she swept out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. Charles covered some of the leftover food and placed it in the icebox. He took his time, giving her space. By the time he reached their bedroom, Elsie was on her edge of the bed, eyes closed.

He knew she wasn't asleep; one couldn't scowl like that in one's sleep. He dressed for bed in silence and crawled gently into his side of the bed. For the first time, he was not happy with their great behemoth of a bed. She hadn't felt this far away from him since the two of them were sleeping in their own attic rooms at Downton where all the laws of propriety and a locked door had separated them.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ I promise, THE Conversation is very close. I wanted to give them both an opportunity to vent to friends. I think it will help them both in the end.**


	36. Laying the Cards on the Table

The distance between them continued to grow for the next few days. Charles had every intention of broaching the dreaded topic with Elsie, but whenever he was faced with the moment of truth, he faltered. It did not help that a crisis at work had kept him in the office very late on Monday. A ship had gone missing and dangerous weather had complicated the search. The whole office had scrambled as the shipping manifests were consulted and they made preparations to contact the families of the crew in case the worst had happened. A search vessel had finally established radio contact with the disabled ship and the needed assistance was on its way. It was a positive outcome, but Charles didn't get home until almost midnight. Elsie was already asleep when he came home. She'd left him a note and a plate of sandwiches.

After an icy breakfast, Charles rushed home early on Tuesday hoping to clear the air, but he walked into an empty apartment. Elsie had made plans to spend the evening with Emily and the girls. Again, she left him a note and a plate of sandwiches. The bread tasted dry and bitter in his mouth as he choked down his dinner out of duty more than out of hunger.

He tried to remember a fight at Downton that had carried on this long and could not. Even after her rant about the 'blessed Lady Mary' or his insensitive interference with her charity towards Ethel they had been back on solid terms by the next day, two at the most. This was different than their fights before. Before they were married, neither of them had any rights or expectations of confidences. They were content with the little glimpses of their more intimate selves that were offered. They rarely delved much deeper for fear of crossing that line of propriety. But they were married now and, as his wife, Elsie deserved to know the full story. She deserved to hear it from him.

He was already in bed when she returned home Tuesday night. Elsie watched him sleep as she dressed for bed. Usually, she found his soft snoring endearing. Tonight, she found it infuriating. How dare he sleep so peacefully when their marriage was facing this crisis? Still, as she lay down, she instinctively reached out towards him. Her hand did not reach his warm body, but only found the vast, cold expanse of their mattress. "Goodnight, Charles," she whispered.

Wednesday morning Charles arose before five and dressed while Elsie slept. He paused before leaving the bedroom and considered his sleeping wife. Her face was tranquil and he was glad to think at least he had not disturbed her dreams. Charles was rooted to the spot, unwilling to leave her without a kiss or a kind word. Elsie stirred and sighed in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw him standing, frozen in the doorway. She wasn't quite sure if she was dreaming or not.

"What time is it?"

"It's early."

"Why are you up?"

"I wanted to get to the office early so I could get home by two. Will you be here?"

"Yes."

"We'll talk then."

"Good."

She expected him to leave, but he still just stood in the doorway. "I love you, Elsie," he finally said and then he did turn and go. When she woke for real an hour later, she still wondered if it had been a dream.

-00-

She was sitting at the kitchen table when he came home. It was a quarter to two. She'd been waiting for him since one. Elsie had moved her chair so that it was opposite his rather than beside. Charles had hoped they could talk side by side on the couch rather than across a table, but he understood; she did not want to be distracted by anything physical. It gave him some hope to realize that he might still have that effect on her.

Charles sat down at the table and tried to look her in the eye. He could not, so he settled on staring at the corner of the table beside her left hand.

"We must stipulate something right off the bat," Elsie opened the negotiations. "Can we agree that you did not kill Alice Neale?"

"I wish I could agree to that, but I cannot," he answered.

"When you first heard of her fate, I understand that the shock might make you overestimate your role in her death, but you've had several days to consider it." She struggled to keep her voice reasonable. Elsie did not want to frighten him back into silence. "It is tragic, but Alice made her own decisions. If anyone beyond her is to blame, it's Grigg."

"That's what Nathan said."

"Then listen to him, even if you won't listen to me."

"I'll tell you what I told him; Grigg was the gun that killed her, but I pointed him at her. I am responsible."

His analogy upset her. Did he really see himself as having that level of culpability? This was so ridiculous, it bordered on martyrdom.

"Do you really think Grigg and Tamara have so little responsibility here?"

"Tamara has nothing to do with Alice. That is a completely separate issue, but it is apparently the issue that matters to you." Charles could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I can't believe you think it's more important that you didn't know every sordid detail about some floozy who never meant anything to me than about the fact that I am responsible for the death of two people!"

Elsie had not realized how much the strained relationship with Charles had affected her. Her nerves were frayed and her patience was worn thin. She felt as though she'd run the full gamut of emotions; fear, relief, distrust, love, anger. Above all, right now, she felt anger. She was angry at the people who had made her man feel the guilt that was theirs, but she was also angry with Charles for wearing this mantle of stolen responsibility so proudly. Underneath that, she was hurt and angry about his deception regarding the nature of his past relationship to Tamara. She tried to set that issue aside, but simply could not.

"It seems we are at an impasse." Elsie began to stand, but Charles grabbed her hand.

"Please, Elsie, it's taken me this long to have the courage to face you. I don't know how long it will take me if you leave now. I'll talk about Tamara if you like, but you need to understand that I don't place the same significance on her that you do."

Reluctantly, Elsie sat back down. "It isn't that you saw Tamara again, Charles. It's that you lied to me about her."

"I never meant to deceive you."

"You led me to believe that you didn't see her again after you left the theatre for Downton when you were younger," Elsie reminded him. "Why didn't you tell me you'd seen her again?"

"When you found out about Tamara the first time, you were so upset I was lucky you were even speaking to me. I told you about when I first met her and how I came to be in correspondence with her. It was cold out. I couldn't very well lay out the entire history, so I skipped over the middle."

"So you decided to lie to me?"

"I didn't lie, per se, I _skipped_ a bit."

"You said you hadn't seen her until you went to see the performance in London before the war."

"I didn't say that. I said that was the _last_ time I saw her. What does it matter?"

"It matters very much that she spent months trying to seduce you!" Elsie exploded. "Or had you forgotten that she used to slip naked into your bed?"

"Nathan shouldn't have told Suzanne that and she shouldn't have told you." Charles was growing angry now.

"She shouldn't have had to tell me!" Elsie screamed. "How could you even write to this woman? Or do you like her attentions?"

Charles was so angry he could not answer.

"I see it now," Elsie crowed. "You _enjoy_ knowing that she desires you. You find it flattering and exciting."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Charles growled dangerously.

"You loved the attention she gave you. Admit it!"

Charles could not tell her how far from the truth she had strayed. He struck out at her defensively. "Just because you enjoyed stringing poor Mr. Burns along, does not mean I did the same."

"How dare you! Joe Burns is a respectable man. Your Tamara is a faithless hussy!"

"She isn't _my _Tamara and I've already admitted that she's little better than a whore."

"But you still want us to visit her in Milan?"

"No, I don't want us to, but _someone_ drank all her champagne and _someone_ answered her letters."

"So it's _my_ fault?" Elsie's voice hit a pitch that he'd never heard before. Charles knew he should stop pushing, but he couldn't.

"Well, it didn't just happen on its own, did it?"

"Get out," Elsie commanded.

"What?" Charles' anger sputtered and died. Fear took its place.

"This conversation is no longer productive. Go take a walk and come back when you can be reasonable." She was trembling and near tears. Charles' heart was breaking for her.

"Elsie, we need to finish this conversation. What I'm saying may sound unreasonable to you…I shouldn't have mentioned Joe, I'm sorry, but you don't know…It's ridiculous for you to think I enjoyed one second of her attentions. You just don't know…" and he still couldn't tell her. "I love you, Elsie. This was all in the past. It doesn't change anything."

"It changes _you_ from where I'm sitting," she said coldly. She regretted the words immediately, but she was not about to apologize to him for anything.

They sat in stubborn silence, both of them hurt and angry. Finally, Charles stood.

"You're right, Mrs. Carson, I believe I will take a walk."

Charles moved swiftly. He grabbed his coat and hat and was out the door before even bothering to put them on. Elsie burst into angry, bitter and frightened tears the instant the door slammed.

TBC…

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**AN/ I hope it's still hard to pick a side in this battle. They are both right and both wrong.**


	37. Perspective

**AN/ Very light, possible trigger warning. If you are disturbed by repressed memories and if you think what happened between Edna and Tom was rape (as I do), this chapter might upset you.**

* * *

Elsie's tears faded quickly to sniffles and angry huffs as she played the previous conversation over in her mind. They weren't even fighting about the same thing! She didn't want to fight about Alice, she was trying to be supportive on that front, but he could not accept that. She was livid that he still insisted on avoiding talking about Tamara even though he knew that's what she wanted to discuss.

Elsie grudgingly admitted that he was probably wise not to tell her the whole sordid tale when she'd first heard of Tamara before the wedding, but he'd had ample opportunity since. They were making plans to meet the damned woman in Milan, for crying out loud! Was he going to wait for it all to come out then? Elsie knew Charles often avoided conflict out of politeness, but she'd never thought him this big of a coward.

Over the next few hours, Elsie ran through a cycle of righteous anger, bitter disappointment and hope for reconciliation with her husband; How dare he! Was Charles even the man she thought he was? Would he finally trust her? Where is he?

As the day stretched on towards night, she became more concerned with his whereabouts and wellbeing. Yes, they were fighting, but she hadn't really meant for him to go away for so long. She felt a twinge of regret when she remembered how vehemently she'd told him to get out. Surely he wouldn't do anything stupid. Maybe he'd gone to Nate and Suzie's, but she was sure they'd have sent her word if he was with them. Maybe he'd gone back to work, but she didn't think he'd want to show up at the office in such a state. The sky was growing dark when she made the decision to go out in search of him.

She wrapped herself tightly in her coat and scarf and opened the door. It was shockingly cold and windy. How could it be windy so high up in their warehouse? Then she saw his hat. He'd obviously thrown it, for the always perfect bowl now sported a perfect dent. He wouldn't have gone out without his hat. The hat moved in the drafty air. She looked up and saw that the hatch to the roof was open.

She climbed the ladder to the roof and saw him sitting on a crate at the far end of the roof. _Daft man! How long has he been up here? _ She wondered. Anger reawakened in her now that she knew he was safe.

"Have you been up here all this time? I was starting to worry." To her credit she did not sound as angry as she felt; she only sounded peeved.

"I took a walk, as you suggested, but I hadn't cooled down when I got back so I came up here." He gazed across the town with a sad and weary frown. "I like looking at the roof tops; it puts things in perspective."

"How's that?"

"All those roofs, chimneys, windows and streets; all those people. Every one has a story. Every one of them has their troubles and their triumphs that most of the world will never know of. Most of the world doesn't care."

Elsie wasn't sure she found that such a comforting thought, but then she remembered how she'd felt when she was waiting to know the status of the lump in her breast. It had made her feel better to remind herself that everyone must die. She supposed she understood what he meant.

"_I_ care, Charles, and I want to _know_." Her voice was softer now, but still commanding.

"You really want to know _everything_?"

"You keep promising to tell me everything and you always hold something back."

"I don't want to disappoint you. Your regard means the world to me."

"This may come as a shock to you, Charles, but I don't think you're perfect. I never have. I didn't fall in love with a perfect butler; I fell in love with a wonderful human being who makes mistakes like everyone else." She pulled another crate up and sat beside him. "Just admit those mistakes so we can move past this."

His enormous sigh told her that he was ready to come clean. Though he'd made the decision to be open with her, his body contracted and drew his arms in tighter around himself as if to keep the last of his secrets safe. He looked small and vulnerable. He looked like he was in physical pain. Elsie's anger was quickly turning to pity.

"I'm sorry I brought up Joe. He is a good man who doesn't deserve to be compared to Tamara in any way. I guess I've always resented that he almost took you away from me; that he dared to court you openly when I was too much of a coward to even acknowledge to myself how I felt about you."

"I was _never_ going anywhere with him."

Charles accepted this with a nod. "Please believe that I never meant to lie to you. Memory is a funny thing…I don't know how to explain it exactly…" Charles seemed to lose his train of thought. He shook his head and started over. "I'll assume Suzanne told you that Tamara tried seducing me."

"She said that Tamara climbed into your bed naked."

"Yes, that happened, but Suzanne didn't tell you…she couldn't have told you all of it because I never even told Nathan.

"I've always blamed Grigg and made excuses for Tamara, but I realize now that it was Tamara who made Grigg act the way he did. He was always a cad and a liar, but he got worse after meeting her.

"After they'd been together for a month or so, Tamara and Grigg would come back to our room most nights. Her place was available to them because Anton was still in Prague with a dying aunt or sister or something, but they preferred to come back and torture me. She called him 'Charles' when they were having sex." He saw that she didn't understand the significance of that. "She never called him 'Charles' any other time. Grigg was 'Charlie', I was 'Charles'. Grigg was the only one who ever called me 'Charlie' and no one ever called him 'Charles.'"

Elsie nodded, beginning to understand.

"They were not twenty feet away and they made no attempts to be quiet. She would whisper, scream, pant and call _my name _over and over again. When they were done, she would leave him sleeping and come out into the common area where I slept. She pretended to get a glass of water, but she was coming to tease me. Usually, she wore one of Charlie's shirts, but sometimes she wore only her knickers or sometimes nothing at all."

He twisted his hands together as they rested on his knees. His huddled posture made him look as though he were trying to protect himself from a fierce beating.

"I tried to ignore her, but she wouldn't be ignored. If I turned my back to the wall and feigned sleep, she would sit on my bed and pet my hair or try to climb under the covers with me. The only way to keep her from sneaking up on me was to watch her.

"I didn't want to watch her, but I had to. To keep her away, I had to watch her. I'd stare her in the eyes, proving that I wasn't interested in her body. Usually, I succeeded. When my eyes strayed, she would laugh and say such vulgar things. When I succeeded in ignoring her exhibitionism, sometimes she'd get angry and wake Charlie up and make him pleasure her again while she called him 'Charles'.

"I never desired her, Elsie; never in my heart." Charles was growing increasingly agitated and animated. "I knew she was a terrible person and I never wanted to be with her, but…They were so close and she was calling _my name_…"

His humiliating truth dawned on her. "You were…aroused?"

He nodded with his head low. "I couldn't think what might be wrong with me. How could I want to be with someone like her?" His voice was full of self-loathing and angry tears. "She knew exactly the effect she had on me. It became unbearable. Some nights I wouldn't even go home. I started looking for another room but I couldn't afford anything else.

"One night they'd run their scam on a particularly well-heeled gentleman and they'd celebrated with a good deal of Champagne. They'd been out late and I thought they'd gone to her place. Even so, I'd taken to putting cotton in my ears. I was sound asleep when they came home." His eyes stared over the town and into the past. "Apparently Grigg wasn't quite up to the challenge of pleasing her that night. She slipped into my bed…she took the cotton out of my ears and whispered to me, saying she knew how much I wanted her…she touched me and I responded to her touch."

His eyes were closed and his teeth gritted like a man in pain. "At first, I thought I was dreaming, but I woke up with her on top of me. She wasn't… that is, we hadn't…not yet…and I panicked. I threw her to the floor. She hit her head and hurt her arm."

So that was it. That was the source of his shame; he'd been aroused by Tamara's seduction and he'd physically hurt her when she'd gone too far. But it was more than that. No wonder Charles had reacted so vehemently to Elsie's accusation that he'd welcomed Tamara's advances. They weren't just advances. This incident had bordered on assault. Tamara had attempted to take him against his will. Maybe she was delusional enough to think he actually wanted her, but that was no excuse. She'd pushed him so far that he'd actually thrown her. When he'd told Nathan, it had been only a push, but the reality was much more violent.

"I slept at the theatre for the next few days. That was when Alice's brother-in-law approached me. I jumped at the chance to get out."

Now she knew everything. Charles sat in a huddled mess and waited for her to yell at him or tell him to leave again. Elsie remained silent, struggling to separate her anger at Tamara from her quarrel with Charles. He looked so vulnerable and lost, she found all of her anger with him was gone and she just wanted to protect him.

"And that's how you bring it back around to Alice?" Elsie said quietly. "I still don't see it, but you'll take your bit of the blame whether I concede it or not. If you have to feel some guilt in her death, I can't stop you, but please tell me you don't blame yourself for Tamara or Grigg's actions."

"No. Surprisingly, I don't."

"Well, that's a start," Elsie said gently. She wanted to forgive him, but she needed more. "What I'm still having trouble with, what I cannot understand is how you could still be in correspondence with this _monster._ You even said you felt sorry for her."

"And so I did."

"After all that?"

"After Anton's death, she wrote that she was sorry for not being a better wife to him. She said that I'd been a better friend to him than she had. Her letter was so sad, I thought maybe she actually loved him. I hoped she'd changed. Do you think someone acts the way she acts because they're happy?"

"No. They act that way because they are wicked," Elsie almost spat. "Knowing what she is, how could you agree for us to meet her in Milan in a few months?"

"I know it will be hard for you to understand. I hardly understand it, myself, but…I didn't remember all the details, the depth of her depravity, until a few days ago. I remembered that she and Grigg had a fling and that she was a terrible flirt, but that was all I remembered. All my anger was reserved for Grigg."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. I suppose that I buried those memories as deep as I could. If you want to forget something badly enough, apparently, you can." Charles looked up at Elsie with pleading eyes. It was the truth and he needed her to believe him. "It wasn't that I wanted to deceive you. I couldn't tell you because I couldn't remember; I didn't want to remember."

Elsie did believe him. She felt a pang of guilt. If she'd just let Grigg rot away in the workhouse, maybe Charles wouldn't have had to relive this nightmare. More likely, it would have all come out in Italy.

"Who would believe a grown man could be…" he made a noncommittal gesture, unsure of what to call Tamara's assault on him. "…by such a tiny woman?"

His relief in returning to service made even more sense now. In service, there was no expectation of physical relationships. In fact, he was insulated from the very notion by his status in the household. Though there had been moments of sparks between Charles and Elsie throughout the years, they'd both always conquered their desires. Elsie had relied on her religion and sense of duty to strengthen her resolve. She had assumed that Charles did the same, but now, she suspected otherwise. Had he always had a repressed sense of shame about sex because his body had betrayed him by desiring Tamara? He certainly wasn't repressed with Elsie now, but it had taken years to build the trust between them.

"What are we going to do?" Elsie asked. It was a rhetorical question, so she was astonished when Charles answered it immediately.

"We won't see her," Charles declared.

"How will we manage that?" Elsie wanted to know. "We've already told her when we are going to be in Milan. She knows where we're staying."

"We'll change our plans. We won't go to Milan at all, if that's what it takes."

"But you wanted to see La Scala," Elsie reminded him, though she could hardly say why she was playing devil's advocate. Perhaps she was testing his resolve.

"We can go next year...or never. It doesn't matter. Do you think touring an opera house takes precedence over our marriage?"

"I should hope not," she smirked.

Her teasing answer gave him hope. Charles grabbed her warm hands in his cold ones. "Nothing is more important to me than you, Elsie. I may do a poor job of showing it, but…"

"You do just fine," Elsie interrupted him. She kissed his lips lightly and was astonished at how cold they felt. She remembered that he'd been sitting up here in the wind and the cold for hours. "Goodness, Charles, you're freezing. Come downstairs and we'll warm you up."

His heart leapt with joy when he saw that he was forgiven. He waggled his eyebrows at her playfully. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Of course it does; it means a nice, hot cup of tea." She winked as she disappeared into the hatch.

Charles shook his head and chuckled as he heard her sparkling laughter from below. It was amazing how quickly the ghosts of the past dissipated in the shining light of her smile.

"On a nice, warm _couch!_" She shouted up at him. Needing no other incentive, Charles scrambled down the ladder.

She was already in the kitchen about to fill the kettle by the time he'd hung up his coat and dented hat. He moved swiftly and silently to stand behind her.

"Sod the tea," he whispered huskily into her ear. "You're hot enough to warm me up."

She giggled and turned in his arms, leaving the empty kettle in the sink.

"Oh, Elsie, how I've missed you." He covered her face and neck with adoration.

"I was always right here," she said softly. "Just trust me and I'll always be here."

"Mmhmm. Always." He nodded as he nuzzled her neck. He tugged her hips away from the sink and towards the sitting room; towards the nice, warm couch.

TBC…

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**AN/ I've known enough people with repressed memories (especially around sexual encounters) to think this is plausible. Charles is an old-fashioned gentleman. I think he would find it very hard to believe a woman capable of such predatory acts. The fact that he was aroused by her attentions would have confused him even more. I think he would have to alter his memories to resolve this incongruity. **

**We'll be entering a nice period of fluff where Chelsie is concerned. Enjoy.**


	38. A Return to Normalcy

By the time they reached the couch, his hands had moved from her hips to her face, pulling Elsie into soft and sweet kisses. She shivered with pleasure at his touch, but she also shivered from the cold. His hands and face were still like ice. Charles sat down on the couch and tried to bring her with him, but she resisted. He frowned as she pulled away.

"Love, you are still freezing," she explained. "Let me go get a blanket to cover us."

She was away and back before he could think of any coherent argument, but he had thought of something in her brief absence.

"If you want to warm me up properly, they say heat transfers best by direct skin to skin contact," he said professorially.

"Is that what _they_ say?" Elsie tossed the blanket over the back of the couch and returning to his arms.

"Mmhm," he nodded. "So I would say there are far too many layers of clothing between us."

"Whatever are we going to do about that, Mr. Carson?" She asked the question, but her hands were already beneath his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders.

"We're back to 'Mr. Carson' are we?" He teased as he kicked off his shoes and began to unbutton her blouse. Elsie was suddenly flustered and almost shy. Charles understood why immediately. "It's okay, love, you can still call me 'Charles' in moments like this."

"Won't it remind you…?"

"No, it won't remind me of her and her games," Charles assured his worried wife. He gazed lovingly into her eyes. "No one could ever say my name like you do."

"Oh, Charles, sometimes you say the sweetest things." She ripped his shirt over his head, too impatient to unbutton it all the way. They were quickly down to their underclothes.

"Still too many layers," he declared as he expertly unclasped her brassiere. She helped him off with his undershorts and stepped out of her lacey French knickers. Charles spread the blanket and wrapped it around them both as she lay down beside him. She sighed with contentment.

"This is what I've missed most," she sighed again.

"We've never done this, not exactly," he argued.

"I mean, just being close." She was running both her hands through the soft, grey hair on his chest. She smiled to herself as she thought, _'the soft fur of the Yorkshire bear.'_ His hands and arms were still quite cold, but his body was warm. "I'm not sure I like that big bed anymore. You were so far away."

"I would argue that the benefits of the larger bed will ultimately outweigh the disadvantages. Now that we know how awful it is to have that much mattress between us, we'll be sure to never go to bed angry again."

"I hope you're right, but I do have a bit of a temper."

"And I can be a bit obtuse at times."

"A bit?" She laughed. "We'll just have to work around those little flaws…as we always have."

Charles growled in response. He rolled Elsie over him and to the opposite side so that her back was to0 the pillows of the couch and his body lay between her and the edge. She shrieked in delight and readjusted the blanket over them. His face was cold and wind chapped as she caressed it, trying to massage some warmth into his features.

"You're warming up nicely, my love," she assessed clinically.

"As are you," he cupped her bottom and pulled her flush against him. She was mildly surprised to feel the lack of arousal on his part, but in a way, it made sense.

"You don't have anything to prove, Charles," she assured him.

"Prove? What do you mean?"

"You've just relived some painful, long-forgotten memories. It would be understandable if…"

"If what?" He leaned back to look her in the eye.

"I'm only saying, there's no need to rush into anything. We can take our time." She smiled at him encouragingly. "I've just missed being held by you and talking to you. Maybe we can start there."

Charles huffed in consternation, but could not argue with her. He didn't understand why he wasn't feeling more amorous. He wanted to be with his wife, he had missed her terribly, but his body didn't seem to be as ready as his heart and mind were.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Everything we should have talked about this week. What happened at work? Emily mentioned a misplaced ship."

"There was a fire in the engine room. The ship had been battling some rough seas and they overworked the engines. They didn't check in at an appointed time."

"Did you really need to stay that late or were you avoiding me?"

"I wanted to come home early, but then we started to fear the worst. With the foul weather, Fredrick wanted to be prepared. We checked the ship manifest and pulled the records of everyone on board. They've never lost a ship, but they've lost men. Uncle Timothy insists that families be informed of bad news directly by himself or Fredrick or, now, me. There were thirty-four sailors on that ship. We were mapping out their homes."

"How awful. I'm glad everything turned out alright." Elsie nuzzled closer to Charles to comfort him. She felt badly that she hadn't been any help to him during the actual crisis.

"And what of your visit with Emily?" Charles turned the conversation back to her. "Was it business or pleasure?"

"It's always a pleasure to see the girls, but it was mainly business. She has so many contacts and leads for us, it's a little overwhelming."

"Have you given any more thought to bringing May into the venture?"

"I have actually." Elsie was excited to be able to discuss this with Charles finally. "It will take some convincing to get May and Colin to leave St. Annes."

"If only you knew someone up to the task," Charles teased. "Someone who could convince Magellan that the world is flat."

Elsie laughed at that, causing something to stir in his loins. "I'm not nearly as convincing as you think I am, Charles. Just because you can't resist me, doesn't mean I have that same power over others."

"I'm glad to hear you haven't the same power over others, or I should be quite jealous." He emphasized his point by pressing closely against her. Elsie's eyes sparkled as she perceived that things were returning to normal. They were teasing and trusting each other again.

"Maybe you should go visit them when I tour Kirby Hall with Robert and Mary." He offered this bit of advice to the hairs on the side of her neck before kissing her there.

"I was going to spend that time visiting with Beryl." Elsie's fingers were buried in his hair as he kissed down to her chest.

"Take her with you," Charles suggested before beginning his journey upwards again.

"Yes, I think I will," Elsie agreed breathlessly. She was done thinking about Beryl. So, apparently, was he.

"You think you will what?" He asked in honest confusion.

"Nevermind." She smiled and hooked a leg over his hip, pushing her pelvis closer to him. "I've already forgotten."

Indeed, everything was forgotten; everything except two bodies on a nice, warm couch.

TBC…

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**AN/ Keeping this one T+. We'll probably jump back to Downton and the Kirby Hall visit next chapter. In case you are keeping track, the little bit of silliness at the end of 'Never Downton Land' takes place the Saturday after their reconciliation. (Feb. 25, 1922)**


	39. Lazy Sunday

Charles was enjoying the last lazy Sunday afternoon of February by sipping sherry and reading on the couch. A week from tomorrow, they would be back at Downton preparing for their separate trips. He would be heading South with Robert and Mary while Elsie headed West with Beryl. Elsie had heard back from Beryl and confirmed that the cook could take the time off while His Lordship was away. Elsie hummed happily as she emerged from the office.

"You sound very pleased with yourself," Charles chuckled without looking up.

"I've just written to May."

"You didn't tell her about your plan to move her to Hull, did you?"

"Give me more credit than that. I merely told her that Beryl and I might be coming to visit. I may also have mentioned what a shame it is that we don't see more of each other."

"Oh, you _may_ have mentioned that?" He watched her pour her own sherry and readjusted to make room for her beside him so that they could both lay on the couch with their feet up.

"I may also have mentioned how much you enjoyed meeting Colin and how impressed I was by his conduct at the Burns Supper."

"You're quite a plotter when you want to be, aren't you?" He said with obvious admiration and kissed the top of her head.

"It's a skill all women must learn," she shrugged off his compliment, but secretly basked in the praise.

She nestled under his arm as he brought his book back up. She recognized the title.

"The Little White Bird?"

"I told you I found it the other day. I thought I'd reread it. Do you know, the main character reminds me very much of someone we know."

Elsie had always thought that Charles resembled the reclusive and reluctant philanthropist from the book. "Does it?"

"I think he's very like Uncle Timothy," Charles surprised her.

"He is a very good man, but I don't think your uncle is grumpy enough to be like the man in the book."

"No one is that grumpy. I mean how he helps people without any need for acknowledgement. I think that is something to emulate."

"Do you have someone in particular you wish to help?" They hadn't discussed the money since returning from Downton, but it was something she knew weighed on his mind.

"That lost ship this week got me thinking and Fredrick and I have been talking. The North Sea takes dozens of men every year; fishermen and sailors of every ilk." He set his book aside and wrapped his arm more tightly her in his excitement. "Did you know that during the war, German U-boats sunk over seven million tons of British ships and cargo? Over fourteen thousand British merchant seamen were killed; many of them from Hull."

Elsie was staggered by that number. "I had no idea."

"There is a fund for the families here in Hull; Uncle Timothy and some of the other shipping magnates donated most of the money to start it. Fredrick says they could always use an influx of cash. He also mentioned that people wanted a memorial stone but at the time it was thought that taking care of the families was more important. We could afford to add to the fund for the families _and _build a memorial; anonymously, of course."

"I think that is an excellent idea, love." Elsie gave him a loving squeeze of the arm. She never failed to be impressed by his selfless generosity. She knew that Charles really didn't consider the money his. Like a Lord obligated to maintain an estate for the good of the county, Charles felt obligated to distribute the money where it could do the most good for the most people. "When do you want to visit Mr. Pease and make arrangements?"

"It can wait until we're back. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Have you thought of anything you wish to do with the money?"

"Now that you mention it, I have been thinking."

"And?"

"I'm not sure of the state of May and Colin's finances. They sold our family farm years ago and have been living off the proceeds but I suspect most of that money is gone. Colin gets seasonal work selling ices or things by the seaside. May takes in washing and does alterations. Moving to Hull would offer them both regular employment, but the cost of setting up house here might be prohibitive." Elsie bit her lip as she thought about her proud sister. May would never admit to needing help.

"If I could tell her that we need her so desperately that the company would pay for all their moving expenses, it might help me persuade her. If I offered her a regular salary and we were to arrange for a house at a reasonable rent, she really couldn't refuse."

"By arrange for a house, you mean buy one and rent it to her for next to nothing?"

"Rather like the man in your book," Elsie reminded him.

"He did do that, didn't he?" Charles was always enamored of her skills of persuasion. "Very well, buy May a mansion if you like, but make the rent somewhat believable. If she's as proud as her sister and she realizes what you've done…well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be you."

"I'll have to find out what they're paying in St. Annes and make it comparable."

"And once she's here, you'll have to make sure there's enough work to justify whatever salary you offer."

"That won't be a problem. We'll have plenty of work. We can even hire Colin if he'll keep his nose clean."

Charles took her hand reassuringly. "Maybe a change of scene will help him. Nate knows a group of lads who've all given up drinking. I'll introduce him. It will give him some people to socialize with without feeling the pressure to imbibe."

"We're being a little hypocritical, aren't we; judging Colin like that?" Elsie raised her near empty sherry glass.

"You've seen drunks first hand, Els, you tell me. Is there a difference between how we drink and…"

"How my father drank?" Elsie nodded. "Once he started, he didn't stop until he passed out or ran out of money. Usually, he ran out of money and was none too pleased."

"Colin did well at the Burns Supper, but you could tell it was hard for him. Once they move here, we'll help him avoid that first drink."

"That's sweet of you, love, but they haven't agreed to move here yet."

"But they will. You'll see to that." Charles smiled at his little plotter proudly.

"So, should I tell Mr. Pease we need a house?"

"Suzanne will be better able to find a suitable place."

"So will we tell Nate and Suzie about the money?"

"We have to tell them about the money for the grandchildren's education eventually. We'll need to swear them to secrecy and then lie about the amount."

"I don't think Suzie will betray us."

"She's not the one I worry about. Luckily, Nate's fishing stories are legendary. No one will believe him."

"Would you like some more sherry, Charles?" Elsie offered after finishing hers off.

"No. thank you, love. I have something far more intoxicating right here." He took Elsie's empty glass and set it aside with his own. She followed his cue and turned more fully to him, her arms encircling as much of him as they could. Since their reconciliation on Wednesday, they'd put their large couch and their enormous bed to good use. Instinctively, they both knew that right now was just about cuddling and kissing.

She administered a series of soft and teasing kisses to his face and neck as he expertly removed the pins from her hair to make her more comfortable. With her tresses free, she snuggled warmly into his side and lay there in blissful silence. Charles closed his eyes and was just starting to drift off into a warm and lovely afternoon nap when Elsie spoke.

"Five whole days apart. I'm going to miss you," she whispered into his stubbly chin.

"Five days isn't very long," Charles reminded her. "But I'll miss you to."

"I wasn't talking to you," she corrected him. She pushed herself up to look down on his drowsy face.

"No? And who, pray tell were you talking to? The couch?" He inquired archly.

"I was talking to this little divot in your chin." She traced it lightly with her fingernail before kissing the cleft in his chin. "Though I _will_ miss the couch," she conceded.

"Mmm," he purred. "What else will you miss?"

"I'll miss this little fellow." She twirled her finger around her favorite curl of his hair.

"And these…" She smoothed his great eyebrows. "Is there anything you'll miss while you're away?"

"I will miss having burnt toast every morning," he smirked, anticipating her laughing scowl and a small slap to his chest.

"I only burnt the toast once this week."

"I will miss you helping with my morning shave and making faces at me in the mirror when you think I'm not looking."

"In my defense, you do sometimes say the silliest things," she insisted.

"I will miss your sweet accent and dancing laughter."

"I will miss your hyperbolic flattery," she countered.

"Your quick wit," he chuckled.

"Your deep voice," she splayed her hand on his chest to feel the deep vibrations beneath his ribs.

"Your generous heart." His large hand slid up her body to cup her breast.

"Your stubborn propriety." Her eyes twinkled with irony.

"Your tasty lips." He kissed them lightly. "With a hint of sherry." He kissed her more emphatically.

"Mmm," she hummed.

"Mmhmm," he agreed and the conversation was closed.

They kissed until they were sleepy and they slept closely together until it was time to wake for dinner. After dinner, they talked more of the things that they would miss and promised to build some sweet memories in the coming week to last them through the days they would be apart.

TBC…

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**AN/ First day of school was today, so postings might be spotty as we settle into the new routine. I'm trying desperately to get these guys to Italy and back before the new Series kicks off. We'll see…**


	40. Downton Time with the Girls

"Now, you've got May's address and three full pens, so there's no excuse for you not to write and I've packed your favorite sandwiches for on the train," Elsie was saying as she fussed over him on the steps of Downton Abbey. How many times had they stood here side by side? Now she was here to see him off just as Cora was there to see off her husband and daughter. "Beryl even added some of her famous orange-cranberry shortbread."

Charles was getting more than a little embarrassed as Mary and Robert stood waiting for him at the car. Cora was beside them, watching with a sweet smile on her lips. She exchanged a loving look with Robert. Barrow looked as though he was in pain trying to restrain an eye roll of epic proportions.

"Elsie," Charles finally stopped her when it looked like she was about to polish the buttons on his coat. "I'll see you on Friday, love. You and Beryl have a good time, but not _too good_ of a time."

He winked before he stooped to give and receive a kiss. "Give my love to Colin and May."

Elsie knew she was being silly and causing a spectacle, but she could not help herself. In the short duration of their marriage, she'd come to rely on him even more than she'd thought possible. Their symbiosis as colleagues had been undeniable, but the strength she drew from his mere presence and their deeper intimacy had shocked her in the best possible way. Charles felt the same way, but his awareness of their audience kept him from showing the true depth of his anxiety at leaving her.

"They always come back," Cora comforted Elsie quietly as the car drove away. "Despite all our fears that they might not, they always do."

Elsie appreciated Cora's words. She knew the countess was speaking from experience. Elsie had seen Cora suffer through several long separations from Robert. "Thank you for that."

"When do you and Mrs. Patmore leave?"

"First thing tomorrow," Elsie answered.

"Are you dining below stairs tonight?" Cora asked, sounding a little lonely. Elsie knew that Lady Edith was in London, so the family party was only Cora, Rose and Tom.

Later tonight, Anna and Beryl were spending the night in the Carson's cottage to catch up on the local gossip. Elsie was tempted to invite Cora to join them, but knew that Beryl would rather wear naught to church but feathers in her hair and bells on her toes rather than have a sleepover with Her Ladyship.

"That was my plan. I understand that Daisy is overseeing dinner tonight as a sort of trial run. I wouldn't want to make her change anything for me."

"I'm sure she could handle it, but you are right; best not throw any monkey wrenches in her plans. We don't want to give Mrs. Patmore any reason to cancel her holiday." Cora said magnanimously. "Are you available for tea? Tom and Rose are out and about. I doubt either of them will join me."

Elsie had planned to spend the afternoon preparing the cottage for her visitors, but she felt badly for Cora and found that she would welcome the company. "I am most assuredly available for tea."

"Good. I hope Mrs. Patmore has kept some of those shortbreads for us," Cora could not help teasing. "Or did you insist she send them all with Charles?"

"She may have kept a few back for you," Elsie blushed.

-00-

"The next morning, he had a pillow tied to his head!" Beryl was recounting Charles' evening on the couch to Anna for the tenth time at least. It did not help that Anna laughed at the very thought every time.

The three ladies were in their nightgowns and sitting on the couch by the fire in the sitting room.

"We've replaced that old couch. The next time you visit, you will be very comfortable on the new one. It's even bigger than this couch." Elsie informed her rosy-cheeked friend. "Wait, how did you know that he'd tied the pillow around his head? I didn't tell you that."

"I got up to use the facilities in the night and thought I'd peek in on him," Beryl confessed.

Elsie decided to change the subject. She did not wish to have Beryl describing her sleeping husband. Elsie missed him badly enough as it was. "Daisy did very well tonight."

"Ppsht. She made dinner for three people," Beryl shrugged.

"She could do more if you let her," Anna interjected.

"I really cannot recommend retirement too highly," Elsie added.

"Is this some sort of conspiracy? Am I going to come back from Lancashire to find that I've been replaced?" Beryl exploded. "I knew that dozy girl would change her mind about the farm. One minute she can't wait to leave and the next, she's trying to push me and Mr. Mason together. Do I look like I'm ready to retire?"

Elsie was surprised by her friend's intense reaction. "Goodness, no! Beryl, I was only suggesting…"

"Did Lady Grantham put you up to this? I know how chummy you two are getting. Thomas said you called her 'Cora' today at tea!"

"I can hardly keep calling her 'Lady Grantham' when she's calling me 'Elsie'." Her voice was calm and reasonable though her heart was beating quickly. She had not expected a fight.

"Why do you have to call her anything?"

"Because she is part of my husband's family, Beryl. If you don't calm down, there will be no more brandy for you." Elsie's voice was stern. She knew it was the only tone Beryl would respect.

Anna bit back a smile as the two friends bickered. It was like old times. Seeing Anna's smug smile, Elsie thought another change of topic was due.

"Anna, have you and Mr. Bates given any more thought to Mr. Carson's proposal?" Beryl already knew about the plan for the couple to take over the Grantham Arms when they wanted to start a family.

"We are considering it, but I think Mr. Bates would be devastated to leave Lord Grantham."

"Anna, dear, if you two are to start a family…" Elsie started.

"I'm not sure we want a family," Anna interrupted.

Elsie wasn't buying this story, but she didn't wish to press Anna too hard. "Well, the two of you should decide, but you have time."

"Besides, I don't want to leave Lady Mary any more than John wants to leave Lord Grantham. They've been so good to us; very accommodating. They even took James and Madge on this trip to give us a small holiday. We're going to London tomorrow to look in on our tenants and then on to Brighton."

"That sounds lovely. It will be good training for James and Madge, as well," Elsie commented. She did not mention that a trip to Brighton was the perfect time to 'talk' about starting a family. "Have you decided about the housekeeper position?"

"It's very kind of Her Ladyship to offer, but I think it will be too much work for me in the end. And it will make my schedule very different from John's."

"That's true," Elsie agreed. No one knew better than her the long hours required of the position. It might even have been called grueling if she hadn't had Charles beside her all those years.

"Her Ladyship has been talking about a house party to cheer everyone up," Anna confided. "But I'm not sure I'd be up for the challenge. I think Thomas feels the same way, but he won't admit it. She wants to hire Dame Nellie Melba to perform!"

"Ha! Good luck getting His Lordship to pay for that!" Beryl blurted into her brandy. "Say, maybe that opera friend of Charles' will give them a discount."

Elsie's countenance darkened. "I don't think bringing that woman into this house is a very good idea."

Both Anna and Beryl looked at her in astonishment. Neither had ever heard such hatred in their friend's voice before. She remembered herself and shook off the foul mood. "Nevermind. If she does decide to have a house party, just let me know and Charles and I will come back to Downton so I can help you."

"Oh, that would be wonderful. Maybe we could have a new housekeeper by then and you could help train her."

"Train someone in the middle of a house party? That would be a trial by fire! I'll talk to Cor…Lady Grantham about it. We'll find a way to make it not such a burden on you. You'll need to be a full time Lady's maid. If there is a house party, Lady Mary will want to change clothes ten times a day."

The three ladies rolled with laughter at this joke that struck very close to the truth.

-00-

The next morning, Beryl hurried up to the house to pack her things. "Remember, Daisy is running the kitchen this morning. Bite your tongue and get your things for the trip." Elsie hoped very much that the cook would be able to resist her instinct to rule over breakfast.

Anna and Elsie shared some toast and eggs for breakfast. They sat down to sip their coffee after washing up the dishes.

"I don't wish to pry, Anna, but now that Beryl is gone..."

"You're going to pry anyway?" Anna smiled sweetly. She didn't mind Mrs. Carson prying a little. Anna could hardly remember her mother, but when she thought of the word, it was Elsie's face that came to mind.

"You weren't being completely honest with us about wanting a family, were you?"

Anna shook her head.

Elsie looked at her kindly. "Just remember, Lady Mary would not change anything in her life to please you. You don't have to adjust your life to accommodate her. She is just your employer in the end."

"We are truly grateful for His Lordship and Lady Mary's support and indulgence, but Mr. Carson's offer to help us with the Grantham Arms has us both talking about children in earnest now."

"Is that part of what this trip to Brighton is about?"

"We aren't going to Brighton," Anna confessed. "We're spending the whole time in London. Lady Mary...knew someone who was having trouble starting a family. Both the husband and wife visited a clinic. It turns out something was wrong with the woman. They performed a procedure and she has a child now."

"You're going to a clinic?"

"A fertility clinic," Anna confirmed. She sounded terrified.

"And if something is wrong with you, you'd have them operate?"

"Yes."

Elsie reached out to Anna and took her delicate young hands into her spotted and calloused older hands. "I'm sure everything is going to be fine. If you want me to be there, I will. May can wait."

"No, John will be there. If a procedure is necessary...maybe I'll wait until you can be there. I would feel so much safer if you were there."

"You've only to ask."

An hour later, Beryl and Elsie were jostling their way to St Annes on the morning train. Elsie looked out the window, her mind full of the hopes and fears Anna had unburdened to her. They were now her own hopes and fears as well. She would help Anna carry them as best she could. Elsie would never have children of her own, but Anna went a long way towards filling that gap in her heart where a child might live.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ I was going to check in with Charles and Co., but I went down an internet rabbit hole while researching Kirby Hall. I'll try to collect my thoughts in a coherent manner and get back to you. Also, the Seahawks start their season tonight, so Downton will be taking a back seat to TouchDown(ton)s. You see what I attempted to do there? FAIL. **


	41. Traveling to Kirby Hall

The train ride South to Gretton was not long, but it was long enough to remind Charles that the situation in which he found himself was not normal. He'd thought he would travel with James and Madge, but Mary and Robert had insisted that he join them in 1st Class. They had a compartment to themselves, but the tea trolley attendant had cast a judgmental scowl at Charles' wax paper wrapped sandwiches and shortbread.

What had begun as a simple outing to photograph a country house about to be turned over to the management of the state had turned into something more. Charles had signed on for the trip understanding that they'd be staying in a local inn and would forgo valets and Lady's maids, but Robert had spoken to the Lord of the manor and plans had changed. Kirby Hall was to be reopened for their visit. Lord Winchelsea's son and his wife would be their hosts and there would be at least one formal dinner. Robert had even suggested that Charles bring a valet of his own.

"You could take Alfred; he's better than nothing."

"Just," Charles had grumbled.

Charles wished yet again that he had convinced Elsie to join them, but he knew she would have more fun in St. Annes with Beryl and May. To forget his apprehensions, Charles lost himself in what little literature he'd found on Kirby Hall.

"Kirby Hall is an excellent example of an Elizabethan country house. Construction began in 1570 based on designs in French architectural pattern books. The Stafford family acquired the estate and built Kirby Hall. The estate was purchased by Sir Christopher Hatton, Lord Chancellor to Queen Elizabeth." Charles read his notes to his captive audience. Luckily, they were both almost as interested as he was. Robert was playing with his camera and even snapped a few photos of Mary and Charles as he fiddled with the settings.

"Kirby Hall served as his country residence during the construction of Holdenby which was once the largest private house in England." Charles sounded impressed. "Holdenby is southwest of Corby and Kirby Hall, apparently. Perhaps we should visit there as well. Most of the house has already been torn down, but it would be interesting to see what remains.

"Hatton essentially bankrupted himself building it and never formally moved into Holdenby. He built it to be grand enough for the Queen to visit and vowed not to move into the house until she did. She never visited. He died penniless and with no heir. His titles and lands were inherited by a nephew who took the Hatton name."

"The current owner of Kirby Hall is Henry Finch-Hatton, 13th Earl of Winchelsea, 8th Earl of Nottingham, Viscount Maidstone and Baron Finch of Daventry."

"Oh, Papa, why do you only have the one title?" Mary joked.

"Because our ancestors didn't have friends quite as impressive as Lord Winchelsea's ancestors," her father informed her. "Now, smile." The shutter of his little camera clicked.

"Have you figured it out?" Charles asked, intrigued and a little intimidated by the strange device.

"We won't know for sure until I send the film to London and get the pictures back. The last roll was quite good, but I'm still trying to get the hang of the F number." He looked down at a small, leather bound note book. "It's all rather confusing. The larger the number, the smaller the…aperture. The smaller the aperture, the slower the shutter speed needed…Something like that. It all affects the focal depth or the exposure or well, I'll just have to play around with it and find out. Edith's photographer friend suggested that I keep notes on what settings I use for which pictures. It should help me in future, but doesn't do much for now."

Robert jotted some figures in his notebook and then put it away. They were approaching their destination.

They exited the train in Gretton. They left James and Madge to see to the luggage while they walked the short distance to the town's high street. Though, if this were a high street, Carson thought, the Downton Village green was Kensington Park.

"Henry said we are to meet his son at the Hatton Arms," Robert said, looking up at the ancient building. "This looks like your kind of place, Charles."

"Old and decrepit?" Charles quipped.

"Solid and dependable," Robert corrected.

Mary laughed, loving the way the brothers teased each other.

They left the grey day outside and entered into the warm tones of gas lights reflected off wood paneling. A smartly dressed man who looked to be in his late thirties greeted them at once.

"Lord Grantham, I presume?"

"Mr. Finch-Hatton?"

"Please, just call me Guy." He shook Robert's hand before turning to Mary and Carson. "I'm so glad you've convinced father to open up the Hall properly one more time. I hope you don't mind, but my wife and I have invited some friends down to see the place before we hand the keys over to the government. For old times' sake."

They were quickly seated at a table and served with an alacrity Charles attributed to sitting with the heir to the local manor. Even in the presence of the landlord's deference, Guy had an easy going way about him. He had light brown hair with touch of auburn and hints of grey at his temples.

"You've come to photograph the place, I understand?"

"Yes. I want to try and capture some of the essence of the place that will be lost when the family leaves."

"I wish we could keep it open, but it really does take an army to run the Hall properly. And it's impossible to stay ahead of the rot." Guy shared candidly. "I think the government plan will mean removing most of the wood and only maintaining the façade, the main hall and a few state rooms. There is some beautiful handiwork that is going to just be scrapped."

"What a pity." Robert sympathized. "I'll be sure to get some pictures of the woodworking."

"Thank you. I think this project of yours has made father feel better about this whole, terrible process." He sipped thoughtfully at his ale. "We'll head up to the Hall soon, but some of our other guests are arriving on a train shortly after yours. They'll come meet us here."

"I'm grateful for the chance to see the famous Hatton Arms," Charles admitted.

"She's a fine old establishment; one of the oldest pubs in the county and we believe it was the first pub in England with a Negro landlord."

"Is that so?" Mary looked impressed.

"Yes, in the fifteenth century, a servant named James Chappel saved the family from some sort of explosion while they were in Guernsey. My grateful ancestor gave him a pension and reportedly made him landlord of the pub, which was called the Lord's Arms at the time. It seems the least they could do."

"I'd say they owed him at least a pub," Robert agreed.

"Do any of you ride?" Guy asked.

"I do, and I believe my uncle might enjoy it if you have a tame enough mount for him," Mary answered brightly.

"Or large enough," Charles added.

"I'll see what we can do," Guy laughed. "We don't live at the Hall anymore, but we do maintain a smaller house nearby with stables. My daughters love to ride."

"Do you not ride?" Robert wondered.

"I have a new hobby," Guy shared in and excited whisper. "Aviation."

"Really?" That sounded much more exciting to Robert than his own new hobby.

"I'll take you up in my plane if you like," Guy offered.

"Would you?" Robert was excited by the prospect. "I'd love to get some photos of Kirby Hall from the air."

"Is it safe?" Charles wanted to know.

"Perfectly," Guy insisted.

Charles was about to argue with Guy's assertion when the door to the pub opened.

"Ah! There they are!" Guy jumped up to welcome a pair of new comers. The man was tall and dark with a confident air about him. He looked vaguely familiar to Robert. The woman was as light as the man was dark. She was petite and lithe and looked as though she might blow away in a light wind, but her eyes were sharp and intelligent.

"Lord Grantham, please let me I introduce you to the Honorable Mabel Lane Fox and her fiancé, the Viscount of Gillingham."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ Dun Dun Dun! **

**My apologies to anyone offended by the term Negro. I wanted the conversation to be authentic and I didn't think they would use the terms black or Afro-Caribbean in 1922 England; I could be wrong.  
**

**A few (not so) quick notes on Kirby Hall; all the information in this story is what I could glean from the internet. I have embellished the family details, but Carson's introduction on the train is almost verbatim from Wikipedia. I chose Kirby Hall rather randomly from a list of estates that were turned over to the government's management in the 1920's. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it is the house from Jane Austen's Mansfield Park- a movie in which a young Hugh Bonneville played a hapless moron. Hmm. Typecast much? (I tease because I love.) **

**The house is mainly a façade now, but they've just restored the gardens. I will assume that the house is in a general state of disrepair when our company is visiting. It is part of the English Heritage Trust, so those of you who are members can just drop by when you are next in Northamptonshire.**

**Kirby Hall was**** also a fortuitous choice because the real Guy Finch-Hatton actually DID marry an American heiress. He would have been 37 in 1922. **I honestly don't know when or why or the conditions under which the family turned over management to the government. That bit is speculation on my part. 

**I could take you SOOO much deeper down this internet rabbit hole and into the lives of the Finch-Hattons, but I will only say, the 1930's was THE BEST time to be uber rich and privileged. It's always good to be those things if you can swing it, but that era really was the Gilded Age. Fellowes is going to have a ball with all these real life stories when he is done with Downton.**


	42. Settling In

As soon as Robert heard the name Gillingham, it all fell into place. "But we already know each other. I didn't have the chance to speak to you at your father's funeral."

"Mama was touched that you and Lady Grantham were able to attend, considering you were in mourning yourselves." He turned to Mary. "My condolences on the loss of your husband, Lady Mary."

"Thank you, Lord Gillingham."

Lord Gillingham and Miss Lane Fox ordered their drinks and sat down with the others.

"I used to visit Downton with my father. Do you remember?" Anthony asked Mary.

"I remember a superior young man who found three little girls extremely tiresome to deal with."

Lord Gillingham took his chastisement with a smooth smile. "I hope you will find my manners somewhat improved."

"So we all hope," Miss Lane Fox teased him. She cast a questioning eye at Charles. "You look very familiar, Mr. Carson. Have we met?"

"I believe you attended Lady Sybil's debutante ball at Grantham House before the war. You would have seen me there."

"But you were…" She stopped, realizing her mistake too late.

"I was the butler," Charles confirmed. "You have an excellent memory. Most young ladies would not remember anything about a ball except their partners."

"One does not forget a bearing such as yours, Mr. Carson." Mabel smiled sweetly, hoping her compliment would remedy her earlier, thoughtless words.

"We've lately learned that Mr. Carson is my father's son," Robert explained.

"Much to everyone's great joy," Mary added, feeling the need to defend her uncle.

"I am glad to hear it." With that the unease caused by discussing Charles' status with the family was dismissed. Mabel hurried to change the subject. "How is Sybil? I've not seen her since that Season. I trust she is well?"

Everyone was suddenly even more uncomfortable than they had been.

"Mabel, dear, Lady Sybil died two years ago, in childbirth," Anthony informed her.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry," Mabel looked mortified. "How terrible. She was such a sweet thing."

Just then, the landlord returned with drinks for Miss Lane Fox and Lord Gillingham.

"I wish I'd ordered something stronger," Mabel sighed. "I seem to be putting my foot in it."

"You weren't to know," Mary comforted her. "Have you visited Kirby Hall before?"

"I've visited Margie, that is Mrs. Finch-Hatton, at Hatton Place before, but never when the Hall was open. This will be quite a treat. I believe we will each have five or ten rooms of our own."

"You may have a whole wing if you like," Guy chuckled. "Though, if you haven't left your room by the changing gong, you'll miss dessert."

With a jovial mood reestablished and their drinks consumed, the group left the Hatton Arms and loaded into the two waiting cars. Robert and Carson rode with Guy and Mary rode with Anthony and Mabel. The drive was a short one and the visitors were soon riding up the drive towards Kirby Hall.

A wide expanse of perfectly manicured lawn rose up towards an edifice at least twice the width of Downton, though it was only two stories tall. The sun was setting behind them as they approached the massive building from the Northwest.

"Could we stop here? This light is perfect," Robert requested.

Guy ordered the chauffeur to stop the car. Robert jumped out and snapped a few quick shots.

"Thank you," he said, climbing back into the car.

The cars pulled up to the front door where Mrs. Finch-Hatton and her three children waited. The two girls wore pretty white dresses. The eldest girl looked her full eleven years while the younger still hovered between seven and eight. The youngest child was a boy dressed almost as prettily as the girls. He was a precocious five years old.

The only servants waiting at the door were a wizened old butler, a middle aged housekeeper and the valets and maids of the arriving guests.

"Mabes!" Mrs. Finch-Hatton greeted her friend enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you and Tony could make it. And Lord Grantham, we have you to thank for this opportunity to reopen the Hall. Welcome to Kirby Hall."

"It is we who are grateful for the opportunity, Mrs. Finch-Hatton."

"Tosh, call me Margie, we may be dressing for dinner, but it doesn't mean we have to be a bunch of stuffed shirts." Margie's accent had a clipped quality to it that Mary recognized. Mary could tell immediately that Mrs. Finch-Hatton was an American.

"We'll dine at seven tonight and won't bother changing so we can have a full day tomorrow, if that suits?"

"That sounds perfect," Robert agreed.

"Come down to the library when you've settled in. If you want, we can go down to the hanger and look at the planes after dinner."

Margie rolled her eyes and grabbed Mabel and Mary each by an arm. "So long as it is _after_ dinner, dear."

"Lady Mary and Mr. Carson would love to go riding tomorrow if that can be arranged," Guy tried to placate his wife as everyone turned to enter the Hall.

"May we come riding, Mama?" The oldest girl, Daphne, asked.

"We'll talk about it," Margie looked apologetically to Mary. She obviously did not want to force her children on their guests.

"Your father says you are both quite the equestrians. I am sure you know all the best places to ride around the Hall. We would be honored if you would show us." Mary smiled down at the excited looks that appeared on the little girls' faces. "Mr. Carson is not a very experience rider, I'm sure he would welcome your help."

"You may ride Goldilocks; she's my pony," little Henrietta offered.

"That is very kind, but I wouldn't dream of taking your pony," Charles insisted. "But I do hope to meet Goldilocks. You see, I'm often told that I'm a bit of a bear."

The girls giggled at his joke.

"Routh and Mrs. Carruthers will show you to your rooms," Margie told her guests as they reached the main staircase. "Come back down when you like."

At the top of the stairs, Mary and Mabel followed the housekeeper one way while the men followed Mr. Routh the other. After walking for an inordinately long time, the butler pointed the men to their individual rooms.

Charles found himself standing in a huge room with faded blue curtains. His suitcase lay open at the foot of the massive bed. It was only the work of a few minutes to unpack into the antique wardrobe. Charles walked to the window and found he was looking out at a garden that was going to seed.

There was a knock on his door. "Come in."

"Quite a place, isn't it? I think it would even put Duneagle to shame." Robert entered and smiled at the slightly overwhelmed former butler. "They seem like a good family."

"Poor Miss Lane Fox, I'm afraid I caused her a bit of embarrassment."

"She handled it well. It's odd seeing Anthony Foyle here. I was good friends with his father."

"I remember when they used to visit quite often. He was a rather quiet and thoughtful young man."

"He looks like a glamorous pirate now," Robert laughed. "Are you ready to go down? I'd like to get an early start. It's quite a hike back to the library."

"I was starting to look for a bench in the hall for a rest. Will you take your camera?"

"I won't annoy them by constantly taking pictures. Not today, at least." Robert smiled. "You wouldn't happen to have any more of that short bread, would you?"

"On the bed side table," Charles gestured.

"I thought I might need sustenance to have the energy to reach the dining room."

-00-

After a comfortable, almost informal dinner Guy took Robert and Charles on the promised tour of the hanger. Anthony had seen the planes before and opted to remain at the Hall with the ladies. Robert's eyes grew large as they walked into the hanger.

"Here's my little Sopwith Pup," Guy gestured to the nearest plane. "Quite the pride of Britain."

"It seems to be missing something," Charles observed.

"I have to replace the propeller," Guy explained.

"Why?"

"I broke the last one on a rough landing," Guy shrugged and kept walking to the next plane.

"Is there a difference between a rough landing and a crash?" Charles wanted to know.

"Don't be rude," Robert hissed at him, but smiled to see that Charles was just as protective as a brother as he had been as a butler.

"And this is the Fokker D. VII, also a single man fighter; the German weapon of choice later in the war." Guy walked past the second fighter to stand before a much larger plane which was a bi wing like the others. "Now, this is the bird you and I will go up in tomorrow, Robert, weather permitting. The Fairey III; she was used for reconnaissance and as a light bomber in the war and should be perfect for your picture taking. There's a second cockpit for an observer."

"They're beautiful, Guy. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to this," Robert was practically drooling on the plane's wing.

Charles frowned at the plane. "You do all the maintenance yourself?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't trust my life to my mechanical skills," Guy laughed. "I have a man who looks after my fleet. He was a flight mechanic in the war. I let him tinker and I'm financing an experimental racer that he's developing."

"A racer?" Robert was impressed and seemed very interested.

Charles thought a flight in a light bomber suddenly didn't seem so bad anymore.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ I promise we won't spend too long at Kirby Hall, but there is a method to my madness. Okay, it's more like 5% method and 95% madness, but that counts.**

**Mr. Brown can review, can you?**


	43. A Leisurely Ride

"Uncle Carson, there is no way I am going to convince father not to fly in that plane," Mary said over breakfast the next morning. Robert and Guy were at the head of the table discussing their flight plans.

"Guy is a very careful pilot, Mr. Carson," Anthony assured him.

"Have you been flying with him?"

"No. I wish I could, but it would be irresponsible of me to do so without first providing an heir." He cast a quick look to the other end of the table where Margie and Mabel were talking. Charles could not exactly read the young man's expression. It was a mixture of fondness and resignation. There was certainly no love.

"It's safer than driving," Anthony argued, only realizing what he'd said after seeing both Mr. Carson and Mary tense and frown at his words. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. Of course, I wasn't thinking. Please, forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive." Mary insisted.

"It would seem that Mabel and I are perfect for each other; we both have a habit of stepping in it."

"Do be careful around the horses today, there will be plenty to step in." Mary tried to make light of the emotions raging in her and mostly succeeded.

-00-

The horses were stabled at Hatton Place, the home the family usually occupied while in the country. It was far enough from Kirby Hall to warrant driving down in the cars.

"Of course, in the glory days, an army of stable boys would have brought the horses up to the Hall for us," Margie observed as they drove down.

"It must be hard of you to let the Hall go," Mabel said sympathetically, patting her friend's knee.

"You're doing it in the best way possible," Anthony reminded her. "The plan to responsibly sell the land to farmers who will generate work in the county is laudable."

"Thank you," Margie was grateful to her two friends. "You'll both help me keep an eye on the girls, won't you? I don't want them to over tax Mr. Carson's good will."

"I'm not sure that's possible," Anthony smiled.

They were all growing quite fond of the former butler. He was being very game about going riding with the girls. Right now, he and Mary were riding in the other car with the girls and their governess. Their mother had offered to change places with Charles and Mary, but the two guests had not minded the exuberant company.

At the stables, Charles experienced a strange mixture of familiarity and unease. He'd always enjoyed horses and was quite comfortable around them, but he was nervous about actually riding one. He felt like a fish out of water surrounded by proficient equestrians. Even the young girls were experienced.

Charles did not own any riding boots or breeches, but Mary had asked Robert to pack an extra pair of boots and had ordered a pair of breeches for her uncle just in case. The boots fit a little snugly and the pants loosely, but he mostly looked the part.

"This is Goldilocks," Henrietta dragged Carson by one hand to meet her pony whose mane and tail were the color of dried hay. Charles was actually looking down on the creature. The idea of him riding this pony was laughable.

"That pony doesn't know the bullet she dodged," Mary quipped as the adults watched the two girls vying for Charles' attention.

"Your uncle has a way with children," Mabel observed.

"He practically raised my sisters and me." She smiled fondly as he picked Daphne up and placed her on her own pony which was very spotted.

"You were very lucky."

"Yes, I still am," Mary agreed.

"This is Freckles," Charles explained as he led the ponies out of the stable. "And, Goldilocks."

"You're a natural with horses, Mr. Carson," Margie exclaimed.

"My grandfather was a groom. I've always loved horses, but have never had the chance to ride."

"We have a very tame horse for you."

"I hope it is solidly built," Charles' insecurity was evident in his voice.

"Not to worry, Falstaff is Lord Winchelsea's horse when he bothers to ride. My father-in-law is a big man."

"Bigger than you," Daphne chirped in. "He's not so tall, but Grandpapa is fat."

"Daphne!" Her mother admonished, but could not do so with a straight face. The other adults did not even try to hide their mirth.

A groom led the girls out to the yard to warm up the ponies while the adults were shown to their mounts. Falstaff was an aptly named grey dappled gelding. He was so round that the groom had to add an additional length of belting so the saddle strap would fit around the rotund horse. Charles felt ridiculous atop the creature, but the girls were delighted as he was led out of the stable to join them in the yard. They'd taken into their minds that they were teaching Mr. Carson how to ride. They called out instructions and encouragements as he led Falstaff around, getting used to the horse in the enclosed yard.

"I think I've got the way of it," Charles said in response to the groom's question. "You are coming with us, aren't you?"

"Of course, sir. I'll keep an eye on you and the girls."

With this reassurance, Charles smiled at Mary as a stable boy opened the gate and the riding party poured out.

Soon, Anthony and the three ladies were riding leisurely behind Mr. Carson and the girls who rode behind the groom. One girl rode on their tiny ponies either side of Charles as he towered over them on the giant Falstaff.

"He looks like Don Quixote," Mary said with a proud smile.

"With two Sancho Panzas," Anthony laughed.

They rode for a while before the trail split. Charles and the girls took the more direct route, but the quartet of younger adults took a side path that took a more scenic way. The trail narrowed. Mary and Mabel rode side by side as Margie and Anthony dropped behind them.

"I cannot apologize enough for my insensitivity when we met yesterday," Mabel said. "I had no idea Sybil was even married."

"It wasn't exactly a society wedding. She was married in Dublin."

"And did the child…"

"She's almost as much of a handful as her mother was."

"I'm glad to hear that she is well. Is she in Dublin with her father?"

"No, they are both at Downton. Mr. Branson is the estate agent."

"Sybil didn't marry a Lord?"

"Tom was once our chauffeur. He was a journalist in Ireland briefly and has managed our estate admirably." Mary surprised herself by being so open with Mabel. She felt a kind of affinity with this eligible heiress.

Mabel looked wistfully down the lane before them. "How refreshing."

"Pardon?"

"Your family's rare choice to place Sybil's happiness before the demands of society. If only every family felt that way."

Mary didn't wish to pry, but she felt that Mabel wanted to talk about this. "I don't think it was really our choice, but we did learn to accept hers. Does your family not feel the same?"

"My father feels that his legacy is incomplete if I don't give him a grandchild. Thankfully, we aren't nobility and there isn't a title to be lost. He'd probably overlook me altogether if there were an heir in the picture."

"I know what you mean." Mary could sympathize. "Don't you want to marry Lord Gillingham? The two of you seem very well suited."

"Of course, everyone wants it, on both sides," Mabel admitted with resignation. "But we do get on."

"You may be surprised to hear that a marriage which is wanted by everyone can turn out to be extremely happy."

"Do you speak from experience?"

"Absolutely, Matthew and I were flung at each other's heads from the moment he arrived at Downton. If anything, it rather slowed matters up."

"But you were happy?"

"Wonderfully happy."

"How lucky you are."

"Am I?"

"You've known a great love. Doesn't that enrich any life?"

"I'm not sure. Matthew changed me. I loved him, but he changed me. If I were as tough as I was before I met him, I bet I'd be happier now."

"Maybe, but we can't go back, can we?" Mabel looked back over her shoulder to the pair riding behind them.

"Apparently not."

"If I must appease my family, Tony's a dear and we do have fun," Mabel said bracingly. "At least I know he doesn't need my money. He's agreed to a prenuptial if we do marry. My money will remain mine."

"He's agreed to that?" Mary had never heard of such a thing.

"What are you two talking of so seriously?" Anthony asked as he and Margie trotted up beside them. The path had widened so that it could now accommodate all four horses.

"What all women speak of when men aren't around," Mary teased.

"Money," Mabel finished and the two new friends laughed.

"Fine, don't tell us," Anthony chuckled. He was happy to see Mabel opening up to this strange, dark woman who bore no resemblance to the young girl he'd known. As the inevitability of their engagement loomed, her mood had darkened.

"Margie, I couldn't help but notice your accent. It's very like my mother's. Where in America are you from?"

"Philadelphia; my father is a banker there."

"My mother is from New York."

"Have you been there?"

"They often threatened to send us to stay with our grandmother when we misbehaved, but I was only ever there for my grandfather's funeral when I was young. When they told me he was a capitalist, I thought that must be a very exciting thing to be."

"It may be exciting for them, but to me, it just looks like sitting behind a desk," Margie confided as they reached a split in the trail with a signpost with the mileage to nearby towns.

Mary looked at the sign post. "Duddington? Blatherwycke? Those can't be real."

"There are a lot of places that need names," Anthony remarked jovially. "They can't all be gems."

"Yes, well they don't have to sound like insults."

"Shall we pick up the pace?" Margie suggested. "Mr. Carson and the children will be reaching the Hall soon. We can't leave him to entertain them all day."

All were in agreement and followed their hostess as she trotted down the lane.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ I'm enjoying looking at the Anthony/ Mabel relationship from her angle. I think she was as reluctant to marry as Gillingham. Why does she ****_need _****to marry? So she can give her money to her husband? She could just be like Harold and take up yachting.**

**Robert gets to ride in a plane next chapter! **

**Personal note; this update takes my archived word total over 750 K. My goal is to have a million words by the Christmas special. Your reviews and PMs keep me going, thank you.**


	44. Flights of Fancy

Guy and Robert had determined that the light would be best between eleven thirty and one o'clock. They met the mechanic at the hanger just before eleven.

"I've given her the once over, Guy."

"Thanks, Ryan. This is Lord Grantham, I want to walk him through the preflight check. If I'm not mistaken, the flight bug may have bitten him."

"You're not wrong," Robert admitted. "Please, Ryan, we can dispense with the titles. My name is Robert."

"You got it, Bobby," the mechanic winked cheekily.

Most of what Guy and Ryan said sounded like gibberish to Robert but he was fascinated. His heart was beating faster when he slipped into a leather jacket and was handed a pair of goggles. The three of them pushed the Fairey out of the hanger before Guy and Robert climbed into their respective cockpits. Ryan spun the prop as Guy sparked the engine.

A long stretch of grass led in front of the hanger serving as the airstrip. A windsock was planted at each end of the field. Guy drove the plane to one extreme of the strip and turned to plane into the wind.

"Are you ready, Bobby?" Guy looked back at Robert and yelled over the noise of the engine.

Robert was speechless. Adrenaline was coursing through him. He smiled crazily at Guy and gave him a thumbs up. Guy laughed. He knew exactly what Robert was feeling and he envied him. There was nothing like your first time; the exhilarating rush as the speed built up and the plane bounced along the airstrip.

Robert gave a whoop as the wheels lifted off the ground and the ride smoothed out. He left his stomach behind him as the plane climbed into the clear grey sky but his heart soared. They flew over a tree line before looping back towards Kirby Hall. In his euphoria, Robert almost forgot to take out his camera.

Guy flew several passes over the estate as Robert clicked away. He saw a grouping of horses beside the neglected gardens adjacent to the Hall. He knew Mary and Charles would be down there.

"CAN YOU GET LOWER?" Robert yelled up to Guy.

"HOLD ON TO YOUR HAT!" Guy yelled back.

-00-

Charles and the girls plodded along towards Kirby Hall. The groom had dropped behind them to give the girls the illusion of being Mr. Carson's guides. They pointed out their favorite trees and prospects on the ride and laughed at each other when their ponies stopped to pee. For his part, Charles was enjoying their bits of trivia and silliness, but he was mainly focusing on sitting up properly in the saddle. One moment of laziness could prove uncomfortable.

He did notice that these two girls got along famously. It was a very different experience from what he'd known with Ladies Mary and Edith. It made him sad to think what the two of them had missed out on. They'd both had Sybil, of course, but now that Sybil was gone, they only had each other and their contentious past made close friendship all but impossible.

The girls quickly ran out of interesting things to tell him and were starting to worry that he wasn't having fun. He noticed their distress.

"You don't have to entertain me, girls. What do you usually do when you ride?"

"We sing."

"Oh? That sounds like fun. We should do that," Charles encouraged. "What shall we sing? Do your ponies have a favorite tune?"

They laughed at such a silly notion. "No, but Henrietta has a favorite," Daphne prompted.

With that, the girls launched into a song the likes of which Charles was not expecting.

_'And it's all for me grog, me jolly, jolly grog  
All for me beer and tobacci  
Well I spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin  
Across the western ocean I must wander_

Where are me boots, me noggin, noggin boots  
they're all gone for beer and tobacco  
For the heels they are worn out and the toes are kicked about  
And the heels are looking for better weather …'

Charles considered stopping them and suggesting that a drinking song was not appropriate for girls of their age. He even looked back at the groom for help. The man just smiled and shrugged. Finally deciding it was rude not to join in Charles started singing which delighted them no end.

_'I'm sick in the head and I haven't gone to bed  
Since I first came ashore from me slumber  
For I spent all me dough on the lassies don't you know  
Far across the western ocean I must wander_

And it's all for me grog, me jolly, jolly grog  
All for me beer and tobacco  
Well I spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin  
Across the western ocean I must wander.'

They then sung their way through _Foggy Dew_ and were completing _Three drunken Maidens_ as they arrived at the Kirby Hall gardens where a small luncheon picnic was being arranged.

_'And up comes the landlord  
He's asking for his pay  
It is a forty pound bill, me boys  
These gobs have got to pay  
That's ten pounds apiece, me boys  
But still they wouldn't go out  
These four drunken maidens  
They pushed the jug about_

Oh where are your feather hats  
Your mantles rich and fine  
They all got swallowed up, me lads  
In tankards of good wine  
And where are your maidenheads  
You maidens frisk and gay  
We left them in the alehouse  
We drank them clean away!'

With that, they reached their destination. The groom dismounted quickly and tied his horse's reins to a tree. He took Falstaff's reins from Charles who had also dismounted. Charles lifted Daphne and Henrietta down from their ponies a set them gently on the ground.

Charles saw that Mr. Routh was just arriving to oversee the picnic preparations. He had to resist the urge to observe the process too closely despite his professional curiosity.

"I trust you've enjoyed your ride, Mr. Carson," the old butler said amicably, suppressing a smirk.

"Yes, Mr. Routh, the girls have been teaching me how to ride."

The girls were immediately buzzing around and disrupting the preparations. Charles knew that Routh wanted them out of the way, but could not scold them or order them away himself.

"Do you know that my room overlooks the gardens?" Charles asked the girls.

"No." They answered in unison, wondering what this piece of information had to do with anything.

"I thought I saw something wandering through the hedges last night. It was late, so I couldn't quite make out what it was."

The girls looked at him with large eyes. "What do you think it was?" Daphne asked in a low whisper, as if the mysterious creature might overhear her.

"It might just have been a fox, but it looked much bigger," Charles teased them. "Maybe it was just a pony."

"Do you think it's still in there?" Henrietta asked, staring into the overgrown maze of hedges.

"Possibly," Charles winked at Routh. "Shall we go look for it?"

"Yes!" With that, the girls went skipping into the shadowy confines of the hedges.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson," Routh said.

"Any time, Mr. Routh," Charles smiled before he followed the girls.

-00-

A short time later, the rest of the riders reached the picnic spot at the Hall. They saw the tables and chairs set out. They saw the two ponies and two horses tied up, but there was no sign of Charles or the girls. The groom was standing ready to receive the reins from the new arrivals. Madge dismounted smoothly and handed her reins to the groom.

"Thank you, Miller, where are the girls?"

"Playing in the garden, Ma'am."

Just then, they heard the girls squealing and saw them running out of the unkempt hedges laughing. Charles came lumbering out slowly growling like a bear with his paws up over his head. When he realized that the rest of the party had arrived, he pulled up short.

"Oh, you're here." He was red-faced with embarrassment. "We were just…"

"So I see," Margie laughed. Daphne and Henrietta took advantage of Charles' distraction to regroup and turn back on him. Growling like fox kits, the girls ran at the giant bear who crumbled before them. Henrietta and Daphne bowled him over and the three tumbled back onto the grass. Charles quickly regained his advantage and rose up growling from the grass with Daphne clasped to his back like a monkey and Henrietta tucked under one arm. He set them both down on the grass where they looked ready to pounce again.

"Time for lunch, girls," their mother interrupted. "Leave that poor bear alone."

The girls were about to protest just as an aeroplane buzzed low overhead.

"Look! It's Papa!" Daphne pointed and waved.

They all looked up and Charles was shocked to see how low the plane was flying. He'd been vaguely aware of the plane passing by higher up, but now they were so close, he could see the broad grin plastered on Robert's face.

"Your father looks very taken with flying," Mabel commented to Mary.

"Very," Mary agreed and gave Charles an anxious look.

"Your mother is going to blame me if he decides to take up aviation as a hobby," Charles moaned.

"I believe she will," Mary chuckled.

They watched the plane take a looping turn in preparation of another pass overhead. They watched the wings wobble and black smoke emanated from just behind the propeller which sputtered and stopped turning.

"Uhoh," Daphne said with no fear in her voice. "Papa's going to crash again."

"It would appear so, dear," her mother agreed, sounding more exasperated than frightened.

"Aren't you worried?" Mary demanded.

"Oh, they are low enough and the airfield is close," Margie reassured her. "They'll just glide in, though the landing may be rough. They'll be fine." She turned away from the sight and took up a cup of tea.

"Even if he survives this, Mama is going to kill him," Mary whispered to Charles.

"Yes, she will." He nodded emphatically. "And then she'll kill me."

Charles and Mary watched as the plane dropped out of their sight on the opposite side of the Hall.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ Charles would never have sung drinking songs with the Crawley girls, but he isn't a butler anymore and can be just that little bit more relaxed with the Finch-Hatton girls.**

**Not to worry; Robert is just fine, though he may have soiled himself. Planes were little more than gliders back then anyhow. **

**We will check in on Beryl and Elsie soon enough, not to worry.**


	45. A Bit of Fun and Not So Fun

Robert was laughing as he looked down at Mary and Charles below him. The shadow cast by the plane passed over them and he snapped a picture. They were so close he thought he could reach out and touch them. He was looking back at them as the plane began to come about. There was a sputtering sound and a smell of burnt oil.

"DAMN AND BLAST!" Guy swore as the sound of the engine died out and all Robert could hear was the wind.

"WHAT! WHAT JUST HAPPENED?"

"Who knows, the engine stopped," Guy answered in an eerily calm voice.

"Can you start it again?" Robert asked in a panicked tone. This was suddenly not so much fun.

"I might, but we're so low, there's no point. The airfield is just there. My energies are best spent gliding us in." Guy began to work the flaps to buoy them up on the air. "Not to worry, Bobby, we're going to be just fine. This is all part of the adventure. Sometimes I stall out on purpose for practice."

With that, Robert's love affair with flying ended. This was not an adventure, this was suicidal. What kind of irresponsible man would risk his life so capriciously when he has a family to look after? As far as hobbies went, Robert thought he would stick to photography, thank you very much.

As exciting as it had been to watch the grass fall away from them during takeoff, it was just as terrifying to see the ground rise up to meet them as they descended.

Guy did not seem to be in the least bit flustered by this turn of events. He guided the plane expertly to the ground with relatively few bumps and one big lurch, though Robert flinched at every tiny bump. Robert's fingers had to be pried from the edge of the cockpit.

"Nice ride, Bobby?" Ryan said jovially.

"Mmhm," Robert returned without enthusiasm as he climbed shakily out of the cockpit.

"I hope you got some good shots," Guy said with no hint of irony. "We can try again tomorrow if you like."

"No, I think I have what I need from the air," Robert insisted. The rest of his photos would be taken from the ground. "I want to get some close ups of the fixtures and interiors that are destined to be removed."

"Suit yourself," Guy shrugged as the three men began to push the light bomber back towards the hanger.

Guy and Robert drove up to join the riders for luncheon. Mary and Charles were very relieved to see Robert in one piece. Robert, Mary and Charles seemed to be the only ones perturbed by the flying incident. Indeed, the girls were running around making plane noises before sputtering and crashing into each other.

"I'm going back to the hanger to work on the bird with Ryan," Guy said. "You're welcome to join us, Bobby."

Charles flinched visibly to hear Robert addressed in this manner. Robert looked unsure of how to answer their host.

"I think I've had enough riding for the day, Robert," Charles offered. "Would you please ride Falstaff back to the stables? I can walk back to the house from here." He'd enjoyed the morning of riding with the girls, but he was already feeling some aches in muscles and bones he wasn't aware that he had. Also, he wanted to write a letter to Elsie. Despite the idyllic setting, he was missing his wife terribly.

"If you're sure," Robert actually seemed excited at the prospect. On a horse, he'd never have to get more than six feet off the ground.

So it was settled. Charles helped the girls back onto Freckles and Goldilocks and waved them off. This left him with the staff, which was part of his plan.

"I hate to intrude, Mr. Routh, and please do tell me if I overstep, but I would be fascinated to see below stairs."

"Is it true then?" The old man eyed him. "You were Lord Grantham's butler?"

"Before we found out about my real father I was butler at Downton Abbey." Charles said proudly. "And once a butler, always a butler. I'd love to see the kitchens at least."

"Follow me." Mr. Routh left the rest of the staff to finish their tasks. "Of course, we're a pretty spare crew now. It's been a long time since Kirby Hall has run at full capacity. It was quite something when I was a hall boy here in the sixties."

"You've been her that long?" Charles was astounded.

"I'm not as young as I look," the ancient man joked.

"I can't even begin to picture the house parties this great Hall must have hosted." The reverent awe in Charles' voice won the old butler over immediately.

"One party went on for two weeks even though people were only invited for a weekend shoot. We almost ran out of wine and it took three years for the pheasant population to recover."

Charles laughed at this bit of information.

"One duke who visited insisted that his horse be given a room inside. They converted one of the bathrooms into a sort of stable and washed the room down every day while the duke was out riding."

"I've had some strange demands, but nothing like that," Charles admitted.

"You can still see hoof prints on the tiles. I'll show you." They'd reached the house and the butler led Charles through the servant's entrance. Neither of them thought twice about it though it was highly improper.

They walked through a series of servant's halls and kitchens. Obviously, when running at full strength, Kirby Hall had required a separate kitchen for the baking alone. "This kitchen was used just for the servant's meals. The main cook did not prepare for staff; that was left for cooks in training."

Charles shook his head at the enormity of the downstairs spaces. "She must have needed two hundred staff at the height of her glory."

"And that didn't even include all the outside staff," Routh confirmed.

"Remarkable," Charles said with true admiration. "It must have been quite a scene."

"Should you like to see the stable bathroom?"

"Of course, and anything else of interest along the way."

Mr. Routh led him on an intricate path up back stairs and through a myriad of green baize doors. He pointed to rooms as the went. Telling stories of the great and powerful who had stayed at Kirby Hall. Soon they were in a part of the house that was no longer used, but was still relatively dust free.

"Mrs. Carruthers makes sure the halls are kept clear of dust, even if it's impossible to clean every room," Routh explained.

Just when Charles was about to ask if they were lost, Routh opened a door and ushered him into an enormous room of black and white marble tiles and porcelain.

"The worst of the damage is hidden by the tub, but you can see here…and here."

Sure enough, there were horseshoe shaped scratches in the fine marble. There was even a spot on the wall that must have been kicked. Charles looked under the tub and saw large cracks where the pampered steed had stamped its mark.

"Amazing," Charles chuckled realizing that they were upstairs. They must have moved the horse in an out by the service stairs he and Mr. Routh had just climbed. "The worst I ever had to deal with was a pack of Pekinese."

"Lord, don't get me started on lap dogs," Routh laughed before checking his watch. "I'm afraid I need to get back and see to the unpacking of the picnic items. Can you find your way back?"

"Of course. Do you mind if I explore some of the other rooms?"

"Not at all. If you aren't down for tea by three, I'll send a search party."

"Thank you," Charles followed him out of the bathroom. The old butler moved off with quick and sure steps as Charles strolled leisurely in the opposite direction. He clasped his hands behind him as if he were doing his afternoon rounds. He daydreamed of what it might have been to be butler of a home such as this. They would have had three shifts of servants three times the contingent at Downton. The rota sheets must have been unfathomably complicated. He imagined commanding this house with Elsie by his side.

He walked the halls with a dreamy smile on his face. Occasionally, he would open a door to find some new, neglected wonder. He found one room decorated all in green marble and another with an intricately carved set of cornice boards depicting a medieval battle. Most of the rooms stood empty, but he would find the odd bit of furniture here or there.

Charles was reaching the point at which he would either have to turn around or commit to circumnavigating the house when he heard sounds ahead of him. They were muffled, but distinctly caused by at least two people. He followed the sound until he could clearly discern the sound of a scuffle.

"No," a small voice insisted. "I have to be getting back. Lady Mary will miss me."

"They won't be back for hours yet," a hard voice answered. "It won't take that long, love, unless you fight it."

Having heard more than enough Charles burst into the room. Madge was being held against the far wall by the man Charles recognized as Lord Gillingham's valet. Madge looked both frightened and relieved to see Charles and the anger on his face. Mr. Gillingham, as Charles thought of him, did not look in the least put out.

"Might we have some privacy, sir?" The man asked audaciously.

"I beg your pardon?" Charles asked, incredulous of this man's temerity.

"That's a start. Just close the door on your way out."

"I certainly will," Charles said with acid in his voice. "Won't you come with me, Madge?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson, I should like to come with you," the young girl said breathlessly. She tried to move, but the valet held her fast. "Please let me go, Mr. Green."

The man saw Mr. Carson's eyes narrow and released her. Madge dashed across to stand behind Mr. Carson.

"We were only having a bit of fun, checking the old house out," the man said in an oily manner that reminded Charles of Thomas' worst days but was even more frightening. There was something sinister and cagey in the valet's manner.

"I shall be informing your employer of your idea of a bit of fun, Mr. Gillingham," Charles' voice was barely audible as he struggled to keep his anger in check. He'd known men like this before and he'd seen the consequences. Madge was as simple as Alice; an easy mark waiting for a predator like Grigg…

He shook his head to clear these thoughts. This wasn't about Grigg. The valet was still talking, saying something about having a little too much wine the night before when they'd agreed to this meeting and not meaning any harm.

"You were one of us, Mr. Carson, a below stairs fellow. You know how it is."

"Yes, I do, Mr. Gillingham. Downstairs or up, what you were attempting to do is at best seduction and at worst…"He could hardly say the word without wrapping his hands around the man's neck. "…it is rape."

"That's a harsh word, Mr. Carson." The man's sleazy smile did not falter. This angered Charles even further. Did he think he could smile his way out of this. "I was just trying…"

"I know what you were trying to do and I know what you are," Charles barked. Madge gasped and dashed through the door at this flare of anger, peering back in around the jamb. "If Lord Gillingham is the honorable man I take him for, you should start packing your bag and count your lucky stars if I don't call the constable."

"And tell him what? You found two people in a room in broad daylight?" Mr. Green was obviously not one to give up without a fight. That's when Charles noticed a single drop of sweat form on the man's forehead. He smiled knowingly. This man was not as cool as he appeared. This man was about to see his livelihood taken away from him. Charles didn't necessarily feel good about ruining a man's life, but he didn't have any second thoughts about exposing this coward.

"An innocent meeting in a room that is about as far from everyone else in the house as one can get? A room so far removed that no one would hear any screams? As you said, I know how it is." Charles glowered at the man and more sweat appeared on his brow.

"You moved in on our Madge very quickly. She is young and naïve; just the sort who won't go to the authorities. Yes, I think a constable would be very interested because I have a feeling you've done this before, Mr. Gillingham. I wonder what we might find if we talked to the maids of houses you've visited."

Mr. Green tensed at this comment. It was all the confirmation Charles needed. Charles knew his threat to call the constable was an empty one, but it was good to see this rat squirm. None of this man's victims were likely to admit to what had happened. Most of them would be dismissed immediately even though they were victimized. Besides, this Mr. Green probably had most of them convinced it was their idea. The very thought made Charles want to throw him out the window, but they were only one story up and Charles didn't fancy spending time in jail for this scum.

"Let's go, Madge," Charles said with a gentleness she had not expected. She expected him to yell at her, but he looked at her with sympathy rather than anger. Marriage certainly had mellowed him, she thought gratefully.

She followed Mr. Carson as he walked quickly down the hall and towards the occupied wing of the house.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Mr. Carson," she was starting to weep now. The relief of escaping that man and the shame of being found was starting to rush in on her.

Charles stopped and faced her. "You put yourself in a very precarious situation, Madge. You don't have to apologize to me, but you must promise me you will behave more prudently in future."

"But he seemed so nice. He said he'd found room with a broken window and a bird's nest on the mantel place and wondered if I wanted to see it."

Madge wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. She only had a vague notion of what Mr. Green had been trying to do. Her simple mind thought he just wanted to see her breasts and kiss her. That's all the boys back home ever asked for. She'd told them all no, but none of them had been as confident and handsome as Mr. Green. She had honestly considered showing him her breasts and letting him kiss her. It was when he had turned rough with her that she had second thoughts.

Charles fought the urge to shout the stupid out of this girl, but kept his composure. _What would Elsie do? _ "I don't want to make you fearful of all men, Madge. We aren't all monsters like this Mr. Green, but you're best off assuming every man you meet is capable of being so uncouth. Get to know a man first before you agree to meet him anywhere alone. If you have questions about a man's character when you are visiting a house, ask the other maids or the housekeeper. They should be honest with you, but still be wary."

They walked the rest of the way back to the servant's hall in silence. The hall was filling with servants waiting for their tea.

"James," Charles called the footman over. "I want you to keep an eye on Madge and Mr. Gillingham. Keep him away from her."

"What would Lord Gillingham want with Madge?"

"Not _Lord_ Gillingahm himself, his valet, Mr. Green. I believe him to be unscrupulous."

"And you trust me to keep him in line?"

"I trust you to see that he does not force himself on your colleague."

"Force himself? Of course, Mr. Carson, I'll watch him like a hawk."

"I plan to tell his employer, but I'll need you to keep an eye out in the meantime."

"Count on me, Mr. Carson," James said proudly. "There's nothing worse than a man who has to force a woman to be with him."

Charles chose to leave things there. He wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly what James meant by that. Feeling confident that Madge was looked after for the time being, Charles went upstairs to join the returning riders for tea. He hoped very much that Lord Gillingham would take him at his word and not insist that they involve Madge. He wished fervently that Elsie were here.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ I promise there will be an Elsie sighting in the next chapter. I wanted to give Green a 'happy ending' (from our perspective) but did not want him anywhere near Anna. Madge will be fine; she's too naive to know exactly what she escaped.  
**

**And no, Robert will not be bringing a fleet of planes to Downton anytime soon.**


	46. An Uncomfortable Welcome

"I can assure you, Mr. Carson, I am shocked and dismayed at what you've told me."

It was tea time and Charles and Anthony were sequestered in a corner of the grand salon for this very serious conversation.

Anthony looked troubled. "It is rather harsh to dismiss a man with no character in these times, but if he was doing as you say, I have no other option."

"I don't make accusations lightly, Lord Gillingham," Charles and Anthony had reverted to formal titles, feeling that the gravity of the situation deserved it. Also, Charles felt that he had more authority as Mr. Carson.

"No, I imagine not," the young Lord agreed. "I suppose it would be irresponsible of me to allow him to stay another night in this house."

His decision was made. He set aside his tea and strode towards the salon door. "I beg you would all please excuse me. I have a pressing matter of business to attend."

"Certainly," Margie absolved him of any rudeness. "I wonder what that was all about." She turned back to Mary as Charles joined Robert and Mabel by the tea cart. Mabel was laughing at Robert's retelling of his first and last flight.

"How do you know Anthony?" Mary asked to deflect any further speculation about what Charles and Anthony had discussed. She would have her uncle tell her all about it later. "Were he and Guy school chums?"

"No. Mabel introduced him to our little circle. Mabel was my first real friend after I came to England. It wasn't very easy for me at first," Margie remembered, smiling at her friend.

"Why did you want to come to England?" Mary had never thought to ask her mother this obvious question.

"I'd met all the eligible men in Philadelphia and New York. None of them caught my fancy. Guy had such impeccable manners and that beautiful accent. It didn't hurt that he was cute." A more thoughtful expression crossed Margie's face. "I suppose it was a way to make my family happy and escape them at the same time. Two birds, one stone as it were.

"Anyway, we were married in within days of my arrival in England. I didn't have time to make friends properly and I was suddenly thrust into a society full of Lords and Ladies who thought I was little better than hired help. Mabel took pity on me. She showed me how I could fit in, but still speak my mind. In short, she taught me British wit."

"Wit is certainly a necessity of survival here," Mary conceded.

"Yes, and the American version doesn't always translate well."

"As my grandmother has often proven," Mary laughed.

"Mabel was my tutor. She took me under her wing and has been the closest and dearest of friends."

Mabel sauntered over to join their conversation. "My ears are red, have you been talking of me?"

"Didn't I tell you she was conceited?" Margie teased.

"But not without reason, apparently," Mary joked back.

Mabel laughed a shining laugh and clapped Mary on the shoulder. "Well said, Mary, well said."

Mary was not sure how she felt about Mabel's hand lingering on her shoulder. Mary was not a tactile person, nor was hers an overly tactile family. She was not used to being touched and was never sure about the level of physical contact normal amongst friends. Obviously, Mabel and Margie were more comfortable. Mary had observed the two friends sitting quite close, patting each other's knees or hands.

Mabel gave Mary's shoulder a gentle squeeze before she released it. The flicker of something flashed through Mary's mind but she dismissed it just as quickly as it came.

Charles and Robert joined them just then. Charles had a look on his face that Mary recognized. He was about to bring up a topic which made him uncomfortable, but which he felt was necessary.

"Mrs. Finch-Hatton…"

"Margie, Charles, you must call me 'Margie'. After I subjected you to a morning with my children, I think we are on a first name basis."

"That leads into what I wanted to discuss." He cleared his throat and looked into his tea cup. "Your daughters and I were singing as we rode…"

"And you were wondering if it was appropriate for girls their age to be singing drinking songs?"

"You've hit it in one." Charles was relieved that he didn't have to go into more detail.

"Their grandfather, my father-in-law, is to blame." Margie rolled her eyes. "Nanny taught them to sing 'Yankee Doodle', thinking it would be cute. They performed it for us on July 4th. You can only imagine how Lord Winchelsea reacted to that." Everyone nodded appreciatively.

"He wanted to teach them British songs to counteract my 'Americanizing influence', but the only songs he knows are drinking songs." Margie laughed at the absurdity. "Thankfully, they don't really understand half of what they are singing."

"I didn't want to make a big to do about the songs being inappropriate because they obviously didn't think they were being inappropriate," Charles acknowledged.

"We'll have to wean them off those songs before they cotton on to what they are singing about." The girl's mother agreed.

"Well, I feel better about it now. I just thought you should know."

"Thank you, Charles."

"I'm off to write a letter to St. Annes," Charles announced, setting down his cup and saucer.

"Give my love to Auntie Elsie," Mary asked.

"I shall do that," Charles promised. "Ladies, I will see you at dinner."

Soon he was seated at the small desk in his enormous room. His hosts had provided paper and pens and ink, but Charles felt better using the stationary she had packed for him. It felt better somehow, as though the paper and ink connected them. He was sending back to her something she had given him, much as he was sending her his heart.

He contemplated the blank sheet and wondered how her trip with Beryl was faring.

-00-

"Forget I said anything, Beryl," Elsie bit back a smile as she and Beryl exited the train.

"What are you two fighting about?" May asked as she greeted her sister and friend at the St. Annes station.

"Your daft sister thinks I would leave Downton to join her business in Hull."

"I know it would be a big change, Beryl, but we are growing so fast and I need someone that I trust. I thought of you. Now, I'm sorry I asked."

Elsie tried not to look too closely at May, but she did see the glimmer of jealousy. _This is too easy. _She could never directly bring up the prospect of May and Colin moving to Hull. Beryl had given her the perfect way to plant the seed of the idea before giving May the opportunity to dismiss it.

"Things are going well?" May asked.

"We have more work than Suzanne and I can handle on our own."

"What about Emily?" Beryl offered helpfully.

"She's our recruiter. She's the one creating all this work, but she isn't the one who actually makes the events happen." Elsie felt like they'd talked about it enough for now. _No need to lay it on too thick._ "Let's drop it, Beryl. Obviously, I can't tempt you away from Mr. Mason."

"Cheeky!" Beryl swatted Elsie with her carpet bag.

"Mr. Mason?" May teased. "He wouldn't happen to be that lovely man you were dancing with at the wedding, now, would he?"

"What of it? You two Hughes sisters aren't going to gang up on me, are you?"

"Of course not, Beryl. I was only going to say that he was just precious. You wanted to just…put him in your pocket and take him home." May joked in a brogue considerably thicker than her sister's.

Beryl flushed red as she tried to determine if that was a complement or not.

They rode the cross town bus to a calm neighborhood far from the beaches. The buildings were well kept, but there were some that were obviously falling into disrepair. May and Colin had moved since the last time Elsie visited. It had not been a move in what Elsie considered a positive direction.

"Thank you for recommending this inn, May. We didn't want to be under your feet."

May looked relieved, but also a little hurt. "That's probably for the best, El. We don't have a lot of space. I would have needed to move Colin to the couch and the three of us would fit in the bed."

"Nonsense. This is a much better arrangement. We're just around the corner and we'll probably just use the room to sleep and change."

They ducked into the inn and were greeted by Colin's shining red face. He'd obviously been at the inn for some time.

"Lads! This is the sister-in-law I was telling you about." He slung an arm over Elsie's shoulder before swinging the other over Beryl's.

"And this is her good friend, Beryl. They're visiting us this week." He beamed at the table full of red faced men. "Ain't I lucky?"

There were a few appreciative whoops from his mates and this satisfied Colin. He smiled at his frowning wife. Beryl looked like a mouse caught between a cat's paws; afraid to move or make any attempt to escape.

"It's a bit early, Colin. Even for you." May extracted Beryl from her husband's clutches.

"Don't start, May. I wanted to make sure Elsie's room was ready and I ran into some of the boys."

"What a surprise that must have been," May said sarcastically. "Considering most of them never leave this place."

Elsie and Beryl were quickly becoming uncomfortable with the situation. "We'll check in and take our things up, May." Elsie said calmly.

"No need!" Colin cried in a voice that was far too loud. "I've checked you in and the lad here will take your things up." He pointed to a grubby young man leaning on the bar. Elsie did not wish to be rude, but she was not handing her things over to this young man.

"We'd like to settle in and maybe have a quick wash before going out for lunch," Elsie deflected the issue.

"They keep the key for you at the bar," Colin explained.

"How convenient," May mumbled.

"Thank you, Colin. We'll be right back down." Elsie moved to the bar and spoke quickly with the landlord. She received her key and understood why Colin had been so eager to check her in; two rounds of drinks had already been charged to her account.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Carson, I understood that Mr. McAvoy would be settling your bill."

"No, I will be paying my own bill. I don't mind covering what they've had so far, but nothing else is to be put on my account without my express permission."

"Of course. I can make the lads pay up if you like?" The landlord was obviously upset that he'd been misled.

"That won't be necessary." Elsie didn't want to make a fuss and embarrass May any further than she already had been. Suddenly, it was more important than ever to convince her sister to move to Hull. Maybe it wouldn't be as difficult as she'd thought.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ Busy work and sick kiddo delayed this chapter and may affect the next one. Just a heads up.**

**Please do review if you have time.**


	47. Lifestyle Choices

**AN/ Many thanks for your well wishes for my son. He's feeling better, but still has a nasty cough. I did find some time to write a short update. It's a little choppy, but we don't need to see all the details of every interaction, so...**

* * *

"He isn't always like that," May said in a sudden non sequitur over lunch. They were in a small café near the water. It was too cold for bathing, but there were beach combers and a few brave kite flyers to watch on the beach. "He's just so proud of you, Elsie."

"It's fine, May. I just wish Charles could have come. He might have convinced Colin to join us for lunch."

"It's probably best that he didn't. He's already to the point where he'll be noisy for a while. We couldn't enjoy our lunch."

Beryl had remained quiet during their bus ride and walk to the café. She felt like a third wheel, knowing there were things the sisters should be discussing and knowing that her presence prevented them. Nonetheless, an idea had been percolating in Beryl's brain.

"Elsie, that job opportunity you were mentioning on the train…"

"What about it?" _God bless, Beryl,_ Elsie thought.

"You said you needed someone you could trust."

"Yes."

"I hope I'm not presuming, May, but I think you'd be perfect for the job."

"I haven't been offered the job." The look on May's face nearly broke Elsie's heart. She was hurt that Elsie hadn't asked her.

"You wouldn't actually consider it, would you, May?" Elsie made sure she sounded extra enthusiastic. "Of course, I thought of you, but you always say how much you love living here. Hull has water, but we don't have any beaches to compete with St. Annes. I never thought I'd have a chance of convincing you."

"I've been thinking that Colin and I need a change of scenery," May admitted. "At one point, I thought you were determined to die at Downton, but you changed your mind. Now, look how well you and Charles are doing in Hull."

"We'd need you soon, May. The company will pay all your moving expenses and will find you a nice house to let. The salary is quite generous and will go up as we grow." Elsie grabbed her sister's hand earnestly. "I would so love to have you working by my side, May. I hope you will say 'yes.'"

"I'll need to speak to Colin, of course."

"Of course! Does that mean you'll really consider it?"

"Yes! Yes, I will. I've missed you, El."

"And I've missed you, May," Elsie beamed. "Oh, for Pete's sake, Beryl, stop blubbering, you'll make a scene."

"It's just all so sweet. If my sister were still with us…"

"You're like a sister to me, Beryl." Elsie grabbed Beryl's hand too. "You know, there will always be a place for a certain cook in our business if you change your mind."

-00-

The three happy friends spent the afternoon hopping from shop to shop before stopping for tea in one of the finest hotels in St Annes. It was agreed that Beryl and Elsie would not mention the plan to Colin until May had convinced him.

"He mustn't feel forced into anything, El. He'll dig in and it will be impossible to sway him if he thinks he's being forced." May had decades of experience in handling her husband and his mercurial moods. He was mostly tame, but did have a temper to match his wife's. "I'll wait until he sobers up tomorrow before I approach the topic. You two come by at lunch and we'll talk about the details."

"You do what you think is best, May. Be sure and tell Colin that we'll have a job for him too," Elsie assured her. "He knows how to drive, doesn't he?"

"Yes, though we'll never afford a car."

"Never say never, but Suzanne and I think the business needs a truck. He could be our driver. It would be steady work."

"Oh, El, that is the best news I've ever had. It will make him so proud to have a regular job. Most of his bad days come because he doesn't feel useful."

Elsie wasn't about to get into a debate with her sister about what caused Colin's 'bad days'. She was too happy that she'd convinced May to come to Hull. She wasn't about to risk her sister changing her mind.

Beryl and Elsie returned to the inn while May returned home. She wanted to make sure Colin was okay and got something to eat. It would make him feel better in the morning and she was sure she could convince him that the move to Hull was just what he needed.

-00-

"Madge?"

"Yes, milady?"

"Have you met Miss Lane Fox's maid?"

"Yes, milday. She's ever so nice. She's helped me find my way about. I thought I'd never find the laundry this morning."

"Has she discussed her mistress at all?"

"No, milady, I don't believe she has."

"Could you find out something about Miss Lane Fox for me?"

"What specifically do you want to know?"

Mary wasn't sure exactly what she was thinking. It really wasn't any of her business, but she hated to think Tony might be making a huge mistake. "Just ask if she's had other relationships and try to ascertain her feelings for Lord Gillingham. I don't get the impression that she is really interested in Lord Gillingham."

"I'll see what I can do, milady," Madge promised, but was unhappy to do so.

"And do try to be discreet."

"Yes, milady."

-00-

Their small party sat in an enormous dining hall where parties of hundreds had dined off the spoils of an Empire at its zenith. Charles knew there was a warming kitchen nearby that was twice the size of Downton's kitchen. He had walked through it with Routh earlier.

Tony sat beside Mary at dinner sporting a still swelling black eye. His firing of Mr. Green had been contentious. The valet had shown a rash and violent side that his master had never suspected. Tony had held his own, but the local authorities were called. Green had been charged with assault; of a Lord, no less.

"He'll spend some time in jail, though not as much as he deserves," Tony reported.

"That looks painful," Mary said with obvious concern. He found her attentions refreshingly sincere. He hadn't received much sympathy from anyone else. Though it was clear Charles felt guilty for the younger man's state.

"I was in a plane crash today," Robert reminded Mary petulantly.

"It was an unpowered landing," Guy argued.

"Were you bruised?" Mary asked her father.

"Yes," Robert answered quickly, "but I can't show you."

Everyone had a good laugh at Robert's expense.

"Why did you decide to sack him, again?" Mary asked. Tony hadn't explained that part to her satisfaction.

"I had received intelligence of some questionable behavior on his part. It was from a source I trusted. When I confronted him, he became combative. His behavior to me confirmed what I had been told."

"Well, good riddance," Guy chimed in. "If you can't trust your valet, you'll live your whole life looking over your shoulder. There is nothing worse than an ungrateful servant."

Charles kept silent on the subject. Mabel, seated next to him, sensed his discomfort. "And almost nothing that can bring more blessing into your life than a loyal employee," she chimed in.

Charles nodded at Mabel when she put her hand on his. Mary smiled gratefully at Mabel, but her smile faded when Mabel returned it and winked.

-00-

"Did you talk to Miss Lane Fox's maid, Madge?"

"I did, milady, but I found out nothing. When I asked about Lord Gillingham and any past relationships, she only said that her mistress was very modern and open-minded. I don't know what she meant by that."

"Well, never mind, Madge. That will be all."

Mary lay in her bed considering what Madge had said; 'modern and open-minded.' Mary thought she understood very well what Mabel's maid had meant. Mary had never met someone like that before. She'd never attended finishing school or lived in a boarding arrangement. She knew both Margie and Mabel had. Mary understood that these sort of places were susceptible to experimentation with Sapphic love. Mary was torn. Was it her place to warn Tony of what he was signing up for? Did he already know?

Mary had almost fallen asleep when she heard it. The knock on her door was quiet enough not to carry too far, but loud enough that Mary could not mistake what it was. Before she could get up, a candle appeared around the opening door.

"I wonder; do you have a moment? I think we should talk." Mabel stood in the doorway smiling warmly at Mary.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ That Mary, she's just irresistible to everyone isn't she? She certainly seems to think so. **


	48. What Mabel Wants

**AN/ Another short one... kiddo's better, now I have to catch up at work.  
**

* * *

"My maid told me about the questions your maid was asking at dinner." Mabel took a confident step inside the room and shut the door.

"I didn't mean for it to reach you," Mary assured her.

"I know you didn't, or you might have just asked me directly." She set her candle on the bedside table.

"I don't want…I'm not…goodness, I wish people would stop thinking that I'm so much more of a rebel than I am."

Mabel laughed at this and sat on the edge of the bed. "Mary, I like you, a lot, and I hope we can be friends in future, especially after Tony and I marry. He thinks the world of you." Mary was holding the comforter up to protect herself from Mabel's keen eyes. "But I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding; one that's made you uncomfortable and might keep us from being friends."

"What sort of misunderstanding?"

"You should know that I am not a lesbian and I have not been flirting with you."

"What?" Mary dropped her hands and the comforter into her lap. She had an absurd moment of being disappointed that she was not being flirted with.

"That is what you assumed, isn't it?" Mabel sounded more bemused than upset.

Mary nodded. "But… the way you put your hand on my shoulder."

"I know most of our aristocracy frown on such behavior, but it's what I grew up with. My mother was a very affectionate woman. Usually, I'm more reserved. I only forget myself when I am amongst friends," Mabel explained.

"It's alright, Mary, you aren't the first, nor will you be the last to make this mistake," Mabel gave a small chuckle. "I seem to fit everyone's stereotype. I'm over twenty-five years old and still unmarried. I attended boarding school. I'm outspoken. I make no secret that I think women capable of being the equals of men. During the war, I wore pants.

"People seem to confuse feminism with lesbianism; even some of the feminists. Do you know, one woman in my college told me I couldn't be a feminist because I hadn't rejected everything male. I wanted to ask her how she thought the society would procreate if every woman rejected _every_ male."

Unsure of what to say, Mary asked, "You went to college?"

"I matriculated at Newnham College where I attended lectures and sat for exams at Cambridge. I studied Political Science; not that they'd give me a proper degree. Recently, Cambridge has deigned to bestow degrees to women in title, but not in substance. Oxford started bestowing proper degrees on women two years ago. Cambridge isn't quite so progressive. When they agreed to the little concession of granting titles of degrees the undergraduates of Cambridge rammed the gates of Newnham.

"I went to the college to show my support and a woman actually told me I wasn't welcome. People can be rather small minded."

Mary felt like something of a fool now. "Do you know, I actually imagined that I saw something between you and Margie?"

"Perhaps you did, but not on my part," Mabel confided.

"You can't mean?"

"I do."

"You mean _Margie_ is…she's an homosexual?"

"Technically, I believe she would be bisexual, though she's never had a relationship with a woman. Or so she's told me. I do know that after Christopher was born, she was done with men. Why do you think Guy spends so much time with his planes? "

"Ah."

"I have something to confess." It was Mabel's turn to blush. "Truth be told, I hoped you…I thought you'd asked your maid to find out about me because you were interested.

"I thought if you did lean that way, you would be a good match for Margie. No one would question two mothers spending time together," Madge shrugged. "But I was wrong."

"You thought I was…?"

"A lesbian? Yes, I rather did. I've known a fair few and you can't always pick them out. You certainly were watching me a lot."

"I was trying to figure out why you and Tony are considering marrying. I don't understand. If you aren't a lesbian, why aren't you waiting to marry someone you love?"

"I do love Tony, just not as much as I should. I did love someone. He was the third son of a duke but that wasn't enough for my father. Two 'Honorables' don't a Viscount make." Mabel's unlined brow knit in sorrow. "Tony served with my Jason during the war."

"And did he die in the war?"

"No, it was that damned flu. It took him so quickly, I never got to say goodbye. Tony was the one who comforted me when I arrived too late. We've been fast friends ever since, but I'll never love him as I loved Jason."

Mary understood now why a marriage of convenience was enough for Mabel. "But what about Tony? Did he lose the love of his life?"

"I don't think he's ever found her, but his family is done waiting," Mabel sighed. "I'll give him his 'heir and a spare' and we'll care for each other as best we can. There are worse fates than being forced to marry a dashing young man and I flatter myself he isn't exactly getting last Season's left overs."

"If it's what you both want, I wish you very happy," Mary reached out and touched Mabel's hand. Mary felt a kinship to this woman. If Matthew had died in the war, she would have mourned him, but her family would have forced her to choose someone.

"Thank you, Mary." She stood up from the bed and opened the door. "Tony will be so glad we're friends."

TBC...

* * *

**AN/ I didn't want Mabel to be a stereotype. I think that must have been a hard time to be an independent, freethinking woman without being suspected of being gay. That being said, I didn't want to shy away from the fact that there were many married women who weren't exactly excited to be married_ to a man_ (even back then).**

**I loved the suggestion that Mary recommend that Mabel (or rather Margie) give Edith a call. I'm too tired to remember who suggested that, but it was a brilliant idea.  
**

**We'll check in with Elsie next.**


	49. A Pivotal Day

**AN/ Possible trigger warning. Nothing explicit, but hints of violence.**

* * *

Elsie and Beryl sat in a beachside café drinking hot chocolate by a fireplace.

"That may have been the stupidest idea you have ever had," Elsie scowled into her warm drink with chattering teeth. "And that's saying something."

Beryl's face was wind chapped, making it even redder than usual.

"Admit it," the cook smiled at her friend. "You had fun."

"Watching you chase that fool kite along the beach was rather amusing," Elsie admitted with a chuckle. "But I can't believe how cold it was. I'm sure we both caught deaths."

When faced with needing to find a way to fill the hours until they met with May, Beryl had suggested flying kites on the beach. Unable to come up with an alternative, Elsie had gone along with it. They'd found a shop at the beach selling flyers. Elsie held the kite up and gave it a toss as Beryl ran away from her trying to loft the kite up to the wind. After almost an hour, they'd succeeded in doing little less than dragging the kite along the sand, tearing the tail and getting the string tied into endless knots.

Still, it had been fun and the exercise had done Elsie some good. More importantly, it had kept her from dwelling on her worries about May. Elsie knew that no matter what her sister had said, Colin was not likely to be happy with the suggestion that they leave St. Annes.

"She'll convince him," Beryl broke into Elsie's thoughts.

"Am I that obvious?" Elsie wondered dejectedly. "And all this time I thought Charles was just that perceptive."

"He is, but I'm even more so. You're not easy to fathom; a regular sphinx."

"Thank you. You can stop trying to cheer me up now." Elsie was enjoying her new relationship with Beryl. Now that they didn't have the storage cupboard to fight over, they really got along quite well. Elsie decided to test this new closeness. "You're pretty enigmatic yourself."

"Am I?"

"What is going on with Mr. Mason?"

"How should I know what's going on with him? I assume he's at his farm." Beryl deflected and took a big swig of her cocoa.

"You know what I'm asking, Beryl. He asked you to marry him."

"And I told him I don't know him well enough."

"But you did tell him you were willing to know him better, didn't you?"

"I did," Beryl admitted. "But I think he's given up."

"I doubt that. In fact, I don't think it's a stretch to say he's courting you. He sent you a valentine."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"To our generation, it does," Elsie corrected her. "You and Daisy are due to stay at the farm when the family leaves for the continent. He will begin courting you in earnest then, I dare say. You should be prepared. Even if you don't know how you feel yet, you should think about it. I don't want to see you get hurt, but I also worry about Daisy and Mr. Mason. If you don't think you might ever accept him, you shouldn't go the farm. Don't get both of their hopes up."

"Do you really think I'm leading him on?" Beryl sounded worried.

"That depends. Have you decided absolutely against accepting him?"

"I don't know. It would be hard for the Abbey to lose both Daisy and I at the same time."

"They survived losing Charles and me at the same time."

"Barely. Things are very different now though people try to pretend otherwise. Anna is sweet and she's intelligent, but it's too much for her."

"They'll need to bring in a new housekeeper, I think. Things will calm down after that," Elsie felt a twinge of guilt at leaving her friends in a lurch. She thought about Anna in London and hoped things were going well for Mr. and Mrs. Bates. "But you've changed the subject. What about Mr. Mason?"

"We should get back to the inn," Beryl ignored Elsie's last comment. "May said she and Colin would join us for lunch, that might be as early as half eleven."

They were back in their room at the inn to watch eleven thirty pass. Noon passed and there was still no sign of May or Colin. At twelve thirty Beryl convinced Elsie to come downstairs and eat something. At one, Elsie was grabbing her coat and Beryl was right behind her.

They found May and Colin's apartment easily and climbed the dark, narrow steps to their door which shared a landing with another door. Elsie took a deep breath and calmed herself before knocking on the door.

"May?" There was no answer. Elsie's voice remained calm, but her body was tense. Beryl placed a hand on Elsie's shoulder in solidarity.

Elsie knocked again. "Please, May, are you in there?" Her volume rose as she began to worry in earnest now. "Colin! Is there anyone home?"

"_He_ ain't home," a voice said from behind them. Elsie spun to see an old, bent man in the other doorway on the landing. "Dunno about her, but he went storming out o' here hours back. Sounded like quite the fight."

Elsie couldn't even respond to this man. She turned back and pounded on the door. "MAY! Open the door, May, please, let me in!"

"Go away, El." May's small voice came from the other side of the door.

A wave of relief flowed over her at the sound of her sister's voice. She only realized at that moment that she had truly feared the worst. "You know I won't do that."

"This is your fault," May accused. "You can't just let things be."

"Fine. You're right. This is my fault," Elsie brought her voice barely under control. "Just let me in and tell me to my face."

"Usually he only yells at night," the little man said conversationally to Beryl.

"Mind your own business, you old buzzard," May spat through the door.

"May, open the door."

"I'll wait downstairs," Beryl said loudly enough for May to hear through the door. She gave Elsie's arm a bracing squeeze. "Just call if you need me."

"Thank you," Elsie mouthed quietly.

The lock on the door clicked audibly. Elsie turned the handle and opened the door. The room was dark. All the curtains were pulled and there were no lamps lit. At first, Elsie couldn't find May, but then she realized that what she'd taken for a coat on the kitchen chair was her huddled sister. Elsie dashed to her side and knelt down.

May was sobbing. Her hair was disheveled and her dress torn. Elsie still couldn't see her face. "This is your fault," May whispered between sobs. "He's never…"

"Yes, it's my fault," Elsie's voice was soothing though her anger was seething. "Let me fix it."

"Fix it?" May raised her head and stared at her sister. Elsie bit back a cry of terror. May's lower lip was split open and there was blood on her chin. "How the hell do you propose to fix this, El?"

"For starters, I'm getting you out of here. Grab what you need. We have to go before he comes back."

-00-

It was a rainy morning in Northamptonshire. Charles spent most of the morning taking Robert to some of the rooms he'd discovered before he'd found Madge and Mr. Green. Robert was glad to have his feet on solid ground. Charles seemed to be the only one who properly appreciated how close he had come to dying yesterday.

"It was irresponsible of you to get in that plane, Robert. You really could have been killed."

"I know. It was a near escape," Robert agreed melodramatically.

Charles didn't really think it had been that dangerous, now that he'd heard Guy's accounts of his many 'unpowered landings'. Charles was happy to reinforce Robert's version of events. It was best to let Robert overestimate the danger if it kept him out of a cockpit.

At breakfast they discussed a possible trip over to Holdenby if the weather cleared tomorrow.

"It hasn't been in the family for hundreds of years, but they'll still let us in out of respect for the first Sir Hatton. It's a shadow of its former glory, but still impressive," Margie told them.

"I'd love to see it," Charles said enthusiastically. "You could photograph it, Robert."

"I've still so much to photograph here. I should have brought more film."

After lunch, Charles retired to the small library. While perusing the collection, he happened upon the Shakespeare. He was drawn to 'The Taming of the Shrew'. Charles wondered if he might like the play better now that he was married. He agreed with the play's assertion that a strong woman was preferable to a meek one, but it had always been too violent, disrespectful and bawdy for his taste. He had always liked 'Much Ado About Nothing' much better. He had just settled down to reread the tale of Petrucio and Kate when Routh entered the library.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Carson, but you have a phone call."

"Do you know who it is?"

"I believe it is Mrs. Carson. She was quite adamant that she speak to you immediately."

Charles set aside the Shakespeare and followed Routh with a sense of dread. Had something happened in St. Annes?

"Elsie?"

"Charles!" Her voice was breathless and desperate sounding. "You have to come to St. Annes."

"I will, but tell me what's wrong. Are you okay? Is Beryl okay?"

"We're fine. It's May and Colin. I convinced her to move to Hull, but he didn't approve. He…"

"What did he do, Elsie? Is May alright?"

"She will be. We don't know where he is. We've moved to the Grand Hotel in Blackpool. Just come."

"As soon as I can. I don't know about trains from here to Blackpool, but I promise you I will be there as fast as I can. I love you, Elsie."

"Thank you, Charles. I love you."

Charles' heart was beating almost out of his chest. He had to get to Elsie. He had to get to her now.

"Routh!" He called. The old butler shuffled into the hallway where the phone niche was.

"Sir?"

"When is the next train north?"

"North? To any particular destination?"

"I have to get to Blackpool. Maybe something runs to Manchester, Liverpool?"

"There are trains, sir, but there won't any more today."

"A bus then; anything."

"You might catch a bus to Birmingham and hope for a train."

Charles felt himself starting to panic. Elsie needed him but she was almost two hundred miles away. Maybe he could hire one of Guy's cars and a driver. "Where is Mr. Finch-Hatton?"

"He's in the hanger."

"Thank you." Charles ran out the front door. He was at the hanger in no time.

"Charles! Whatever is the matter, man?" Guy asked with concern. Charles' distress was evident.

Out of breath, Charles panted, "I have to get to Blackpool as soon as possible. May I hire your car and driver?"

"Of course," Guy assured him. "Though, if you _really_ want to get there _as soon as possible_, might I offer you another option?"

Charles knew what Guy was about to suggest. There really wasn't anything faster than flying. The very thought turned Charles' stomach, but he had promised Elsie that he would be with her as quickly as he could. He'd promised her. His choice was made.

"I'm listening."

TBC…

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**AN/ Come on, you KNEW I was gonna get Charles in a plane somehow.**

**I feel badly for putting May through this ordeal, but I hope it will make her stronger in the end.**


	50. Love's Light Wings

May was finally sleeping. Elsie had procured them a suite with two bedrooms and a parlor. She'd had to lay out all the cash she'd brought with her, but money was not a concern in the face of events.

Though Elsie wished Charles weren't so far away, she was grateful for Beryl who had been an absolute blessing. Beryl had her rebellious side and could be cheeky on inappropriate occasions, but when things really mattered, there was no one better for getting things done.

It had been Beryl's idea to change hotels and it was Beryl who had thought to ask for ice for May's face when they arrived at the hotel. Now, she was downstairs ordering tea. Beryl refused to use the in-room phone to call the front desk. She thought that was indulgent.

"It's bad enough that people use phones to call between houses that are practically next door, but calling from one room to another in the _same_ building? That's just madness."

"It's just like a bell, but with a voice," Elsie had tried to explain to her indignant friend, thankful for the silly distraction.

"Well, I won't touch the thing. I'd probably end up calling someone in Timbuktu." And with that, she'd disappeared out the suite door.

Now that things were settling and she was alone, Elise could not help but dwell on May's accusations. _'This is your fault. You can't just let things be.'_

There was truth in those words. Elsie knew rationally that it wasn't her fault, but she still felt culpable. She was the match that lit the blue paper. She should have expected fireworks. She should have anticipated this. She should have asked Charles to come with her from the start. He was on his way now. The thought comforted her. Elsie knew he would probably not be here until tomorrow, but she hoped he might find some way to get here faster. She had no idea how far it was from Kirby Hall to Blackpool. Even if he could hire a car, which would not be cheap, it would be four hours or more.

There was a knock on the door. Maybe Beryl had forgotten to take a key. Elsie opened the door. Charles stood there. _But he can't be here._ But he was. How didn't matter. She lunged forward and collapsed into his arms. "Charles!"

His love encircled her. She felt the weight lift from her shoulders; not gone, but lighter. He was here to share her burdens and to be her helpmate. She was sobbing. A part of her was embarrassed by this display of weakness, but then she remembered how foolish it was for her to ever be embarrassed in front of him.

"Shh, shh, love," he soothed. "It's going to be alright. We're going to make it alright."

His confident words roused her and rallied her spirits. She pulled him into the room. He dropped his bag and shut the door. They sat on the settee. She dried her eyes with his handkerchief and told him of the past two days.

"May says he didn't hit her; not directly. She was trying to talk to him about moving to Hull. He was still drunk from the night before or had started again, she's not sure which. He went to leave. She blocked the door and he pushed her out of the way. She fell into a chair and hit her face on the chair. I'm not sure if I believe her or not."

"It doesn't matter," Charles said, his face dark with anger. "Whether it was a chair or his fist, he is responsible."

"But she's worried about him. She won't leave Lancashire until she's sure he's alright. We need to find him so she'll come with us.

"There's something else, Beryl and I left our things at the inn. We need to get them."

"It sounds like the inn is a good place to start looking for Colin. Beryl and I will go there right now. She'll bring back your things and I'll find Colin. He won't have gone far."

Elsie didn't have words to thank him, so she just took his kind and gentle face in her hands and kissed him.

"What the hell?" Beryl had finally returned with the tea. Thankfully, it was on a rolling cart, because she would have dropped a tray. Charles and Elsie broke apart and Beryl realized who Elsie was kissing. "Charles Carson! How the bloody hell did you get here so fast? Elsie couldn't have called you much more than an hour ago. It must be two hundred miles from Northamptonshire to here!"

"Give or take," Charles agreed.

Elsie realized that Beryl was right. "How _did_ you get here, Charles?"

He smiled mischievously. "'On, love's light wings did I o'erstep' the distance between us. To misquote Romeo."

"Love's light wings?" Elsie was perplexed.

"Oh my God!" Beryl exclaimed. "You flew!"

Despite the somber reason for his flight, Charles could not help but beam at the memory. He'd been apprehensive at first, but once he'd found the courage to open his eyes, the flight had been very enjoyable. He nodded enthusiastically. "Guy has the cutest little pip of a plane. It can land or take off on land or water. He's going to enter it into the Venice race next year. It took us only forty-five minutes to cover one hundred and eighty miles! That's over two hundred miles an hour! Guy landed her just by the South Pier and drove right up as neat as you please. He dropped me off, fueled up and then turned right 'round and took off again."

Elsie was staring at him. She didn't know whether she was appalled or impressed. What was he thinking; risking his life like that? _He was thinking he needed to get to you, lass._

"'Pip of a plane?'" Beryl mocked. "Since when do you talk like that, Charles Carson. Just because they let you dine with 'em don't make you one of 'em."

"It's not like I'm considering buying one, Beryl," Charles shrugged off her ridicule.

"As if you could afford it," Beryl scoffed.

"Charles?" May stood in the doorway in the hotel's thick robe. "I thought I heard your voice."

All merriment at the memory of his flight was wiped away as Charles saw the reason for it. The lower half of May's face was a spectacular bruise and her lip was swollen.

"He flew here!" Beryl announced. "Literally! In a plane!"

"Goodness, that sounds dangerous," May looked impressed, but then winced as the expression proved painful.

"It's perfectly safe. My other option was a car and they're slower and not necessarily any safer." Charles stood up and hurried to her. He escorted her to the settee and into Elsie's arms. "You should be resting, May."

"I can't rest easy until I know he's alright."

"I understand," Charles said gently. "In fact, Beryl and I are about to go find Colin right now. You and Elsie have a spot of tea and then you try to rest. I'll come back when I have something to report."

He kissed the top of May's head and then Elsie's before turning to Beryl. "Are you ready?"

Beryl nodded. She rolled the cart in front of the sisters and stepped back. She had already prepared two cups of tea.

"I'll be back soon," Beryl promised.

"Thank you," Elsie smiled at her two greatest friends. She knew she was fortunate to have them both. Tears of gratitude prickled in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. She needed to be strong for her sister. Thankfully, Charles and Beryl would be strong for her.

TBC…

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**AN/ Just a shorty today, more of what became/ will become of Colin very soon.**

**Thank you for the reviews, I didn't have time to respond yet, but I hope to. Your input is highly valued and does influence the story. **


	51. The Search for Colin

When Charles and Beryl arrived at the inn it was obvious they were walking into something. Tables and chairs were being righted and a surly looking landlord was sweeping up broken glasses from the top of the bar.

"You just missed him," the landlord growled at the sight of Beryl.

"We're just here for our things," Beryl ignored his tone and held out her hand for the room key which he gave her without further comment. Charles hoped the man would know better than to fight Beryl over a key. "I'll be right back, Charles."

Charles set a chair back on its legs and waited for the landlord to finish wiping down the bar. "I trust this will settle up their bill," Charles pulled out his wallet and lay a ten pound note on the bar. "And cover your damages."

Begrudgingly, the landlord nodded. That would more than cover everything.

"If any letters arrive, please forward them to the Grand Hotel in Blackpool. I don't think I have to tell you not to mention that to Mr. McAvoy."

"Understood."

"You said we just missed him. When did he leave exactly?"

"Ten minutes before you got here. He was pretty far gone. I refused to serve him and he took exception."

"Apparently." Charles picked up a large piece of broken pint glass at his feet and placed it delicately on the bar. "Do you know where he might have gone?"

"If he didn't go home, there are only a few bars that would serve him in that state. They aren't nice places."

"Even at this time of day?" Charles was incredulous. "It's barely tea time."

"When there are no windows, time of day doesn't really matter," the Landlord told him philosophically.

"Could you please tell me where these questionable establishments are located?"

"Certainly," he pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil. He jotted down the addresses and some simple directions.

"Thank you," Charles said as he received the note from the landlord.

"You should probably take a local with you," the landlord cautioned.

Charles pointed at the other occupants of the room, men who shared a lot in common with Colin. "Are any of this lot reliable?"

"Not really, but that's why you need them," the landlord shrugged. "Talk to Mikey over there, he and Colin are pals. Least ways, they share a drink now and then."

Charles suspected you could say that of most of the patrons in the inn. Beryl came back down carrying two bags. Charles put her in a cab outside the inn and debated his next step. He went back into the inn and approached the man the landlord had called Mikey.

"You're a mate of Colin's?"

"Who're you? A detective?"

"I'm his brother-in-law. My name is Charles Carson. I need to find him. His wife is worried about him."

"She should be. Buy me a drink?" He held up an empty glass.

"After we find him." Charles' distaste was palpable. "Are you willing to help me or not?"

"Fine, fine. I'll help you. Colin's not a bad lad. What happened? He wasn't making much sense."

"That's not important. We just need to find him. I have this list of places as a start." Charles showed Mikey the list from the landlord. Mikey nodded.

"I know these places. I'll take that drink now. You should join me, you're going to need it."

Charles could see that he wasn't going to get Mikey to budge without greasing the wheels. He stomped to the bar, paid for two glasses of whiskey and returned.

"You don't waste time, do you?" Mikey laughed before tossing back the drink. He gathered his coat, drank Charles' whiskey too and followed Charles out the door. "So what actually happened? Did his old lady finally give him the boot?"

"Something like that. Let's start at their apartment. Maybe he went back there."

"Unlikely. He's on what they call a 'bender'. He's looking to get obliterated."

"Has he done this before?"

"A few times. When he broke his leg he was on a bender. Some men can't hold their alcohol."

"I'd like to check their apartment."

"Two of these places are on the way there. We should drop in. I certainly hope he's in one of those."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not exactly welcome in this third one and I wouldn't advise you going there alone. If Colin went there, he's on his own."

"Then I hope he's not there," Charles muttered. Charles was a large man and could be intimidating, _to hall boys and footmen_, he thought wryly. But at his heart, he was not one for physical confrontations and fisticuffs. He desperately hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Here's our first stop," Mikey said cheerily and ducked into a dark, recessed doorway.

Charles had been in places like this when he was on the stage. He hadn't liked them then and he liked them even less now. This place was just like he remembered. The air was smoky and filled with an odor of mildew. The floor felt sticky under his clean shoes. The chairs were mismatched and the tables were haphazardly strewn about the space. As unkempt as the room was, the clientele were worse. With his upright bearing and direct gaze, Charles stood out like an honest man at a poker table.

"For god's sake, slouch a bit," Mikey hissed at him.

Charles hunched his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets in a very nonthreatening way.

"Oy, Trev, what's the do?" Mikey barked at the barkeep.

"Who's the rube, Mikey?"

Charles felt a half a dozen pairs of eyes boring into him.

"My cousin from York. I thought I'd show him what St. Annes is really about. Why don't you buy the boys a round so they know you're friendly, Charlie?"

Charles flinched at the unwelcome moniker but dug deep into his pockets as if unsure he had enough to cover a round. He was grateful that he found enough cash in coins. He did not want to open his wallet in front of this crowd. "Sure thing, Mikey."

Suddenly, Charles was surrounded by friendly faces clapping him on the back. This was an improvement, but Charles was impatient. It was clear that Colin was not here. Charles wanted to ask about Colin right off and move on, but he sensed that Mikey knew this crowd and decided to follow his lead.

"Any sport today, lads?" Mikey fished. "You've not been trying to prove you're faster than a dart again, have you, Georgie?"

A man with a patch over one eye did not look amused, but the rest of the group howled appreciatively at his expense.

"Did you have anything particular in mind, Mikey?" A man with a face barely visible behind a wild grey beard asked.

"I heard Colin McAvoy was on a bender. His old lady's worried. Any sign of 'im?"

"He's still not paid off his last bender," the barkeeper grumbled. "Ain't my fault he broke his leg."

"Right, well we've got loads more to see today, but I needed a bit of fortification. Ta, lads."

"Ta, Mikey," they all saluted him as Charles and Mikey bid them adieu. Before they reached the door, a hand grabbed Charles' arm. It was the man with the wild beard.

"Try the Bull if you're looking for Colin." He addressed Charles. Obviously, he didn't believe Mikey's story for a second.

"Thank you," Charles nodded and slipped the man a few shillings.

Even the dull afternoon light was blinding as they left the cave like atmosphere.

"Is the Bull the other pub on the way to the apartment?"

"No. It's the one I warned you about," Mikey said gravely.

"Let's try the other first and the apartment," Charles decided. There was no need to go running into the lion's den. "You're buying the next round."

Mikey started to protest, but Charles pressed a crisp five pound note into his hand. Charles was wary of flashing cash about. "I'm out of coins."

The name on the shingle was different, but the second pub was almost identical to the first; unclean and filled with men who lived rough lives. Though it was now five o'clock, this was not the kind of place frequented by clerks and shopkeepers.

Unfortunately, the result was the same; Charles was as conspicuous as Gulliver in Lilliput, Mikey bought a round for the house and Colin hadn't been seen.

Charles observed the bar patrons closely. Hadn't Elsie once told him there were three types of drunk? He couldn't remember when or where, but he distinctly remembered her voice saying, _'There are fun drunks, mean drunks and sad drunks.'_ He didn't see any fun drunks in this crowd. From what Charles could gather Colin was a sad drunk who occasionally turned mean.

Charles got the impression that even the other drunks felt sorry for Colin. Apparently, besides types, there were different degrees of drunk ranging from functioning to hopeless. Colin was universally acknowledged to be one of those unfortunate souls who couldn't hold it together.

Mikey was still enjoying the attentions of his friends who had been impressed when he produced a five pound note. Charles suspected their flattery arose more from the hope of another round than any true admiration.

"We have to go," Charles tugged at Mikey's sleeve.

"You go," Mikey slurred. "You know where the apartment is and I told you I'm not going to the Bull. I advise you don't go there either. Just go wait at the apartment. He'll show up. Or he won't."

Realizing he'd gotten all he could out of Mikey, Charles left the bar to check in at the apartment. He found it easily enough and let himself in with the key Elsie had given him. Charles checked all of the tiny rooms. There was no sign of Colin. There were broken plates next to the sink and several empty bottles of gin beside the couch. Charles didn't know if the bottles were from before or after the fight.

Charles sat down at the table to think. It was growing dark outside and his best lead was a bar that even a seasoned drunk like Mikey thought best avoided. He'd tempted fate by flying with Guy. Did he dare tempt fate again? His priority was Elsie and May. He wouldn't be helping anyone if he got himself mugged or worse.

The post office was closed, so Charles couldn't call Elsie to check in. He didn't want her to worry, but he didn't want to leave in case Colin returned. He decided to give it an hour before heading back to the inn. Surely they had a phone and he could call the hotel.

Sitting at the table, Charles realized that he was growing hungry. The whiskey he'd had at the two pubs still burned in his belly. He was rummaging in the cupboard when he heard someone fumbling with the doorknob. He went to open the door for Colin but stopped when he heard more than one voice on the landing. Charles pressed his ear to the door and listened.

"You're sure this is where he lives?" One voice asked.

"This is the address the barkeep give us," another answered.

"That was quick thinking, offering to bring him home. He's blasted heavy, but it will be worth it."

"Yeah, he was blathering on about how his missus left him, but he said she left him the cash which proved she cared what happened to him."

"If we leave the door unlocked and ajar, he can't say that we took the money 'cuz anyone could'a wandered in."

"Exactly. Here, you hold 'im, I can't get this key to work and hold 'im at the same time."

Charles heard some grunts as they readjusted. Then, a key began to turn in the lock.

Charles had to think fast. He pulled himself up to his full height, took a deep breath and opened the door.

TBC…

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**AN/ Sorry to leave it there, but it can't be helped.**


	52. What Will You Fight For?

**AN/ You know I love cliffhangers, but I'm just not cruel enough to draw them out...Judging by views and reviews, I think most folks are ready for this SECOND UPDATE OF THE DAY!**

* * *

"Colin!" Charles yelled out enthusiastically. "Thank goodness you boys have found him. We've been that worried, we have."

Charles quickly evaluated the two men. Grigg's mouth had gotten Charles into a few scraps against his will, but he'd gotten pretty good at reading people and defusing a situation. The larger of the two men, who was Charles' height but much heavier, was supporting an unconscious Colin by holding him under his arms and clasping his hands at Colin's chest. The smaller and keener eyed of the two was still holding the key to the door.

The two men were so startled that the larger one almost dropped Colin. Charles' heart was beating quickly, but he knew he had to exude confidence. These were opportunists; petty thieves who'd grabbed a chance. They wouldn't dare a direct attack unless they sensed weakness.

"I'm Charles Carson, Colin's brother-in-law. You must be some of his mates from the Bull." Charles shook the smaller man's hand and took the key from him. He beamed at the larger man and held out his hand. They both wondered how Charles knew which pub they'd just come from.

"Jacob Riley," the man said and shook Charles' hand while still holding Colin up. Charles heard the smaller man groan. They could hardly roll him now that he knew one of their names. Just as Charles had planned.

"Pleased to meet you, Jacob, why don't you drag him in here to the couch?" Charles indicated that the two men should carry Colin. Reluctantly, the brains of the operation complied. Charles looked at him keenly. "I didn't catch _your_ name."

"Luke Hopper," the man answered, knowing that this jig was up. He and Jacob deposited Colin on the couch.

"Well, I can't thank you enough, Luke, Jacob. Here, let me get you something for your troubles." Charles hurried to the kitchen cabinet. He'd seen something earlier that would be just the thing. He returned carrying two bottles; one gin and one whiskey. They were unopened.

"I don't think Colin will be needing these anymore," he said, handing them the liquor. Their faces brightened considerably. It wasn't the score they'd hoped for, but their time hadn't been a complete waste. Charles ushered them out the door with a practiced, professional manner that achieved his purpose, but did not make them feel rushed or unwanted.

"Thanks again for your help. It's nice to know there are still good people in the world." With this little poke of irony, he shut the door firmly in their faces and locked it quickly. He let out a relieved sigh and looked towards the couch where Colin lay slumped.

Charles had started out this adventure wanting to find Colin to throttle him within an inch of his life. Charles Carson would never consider anything like that under normal circumstances, but the image of May's battered face kept his anger hot. That anger was now countered by pity; pity for the creature before him, deflated and lost. Charles remembered that he was there to look after Colin so he could reassure May that her husband was alright. Even after all he'd put her through, she still loved him. That much was clear.

Charles knew there was nothing that Elsie could do that would make him stop loving her. He wondered if there was anything he could do to lose her love. The thought sent a chill down his spine. Losing her would kill him as sure as a bullet to the heart. He had ample evidence to suspect that Colin felt the same way about May.

He had to get word back to the hotel, but he couldn't be sure Colin would still be here when he got back. Colin appeared incapacitated, but drunks could sometimes surprise you. Charles was still hungry so he returned to the kitchen and made himself a cheese sandwich. He made one for Colin too, just in case.

Charles considered his options. He couldn't lock the apartment from the outside and if he tied Colin up, he might wake up and start screaming. There was only one thing for it. After looking around, Charles found a tin pail. He filled it from the sink tap and set it beside the sink. He went to Colin and tried to move him. His body was dead weight. Charles slapped Colin's face and tried to rouse him. There was some mumbling, but Colin remained steadfastly unconscious. Charles sat beside Colin and slipped Colin's arm around him. He pulled Colin to his feet and dragged him over to the sink. Charles deposited Colin there, laying most of his upper body along the kitchen counter top, but his head was in the large sink. Charles took the pail of water and poured it over Colin's head. The response was immediate.

Sputtering and cursing, Colin lurched up and spun around. He took a swing at Charles, but hit the tin pail instead with a terrible clang.

"Ouch!" Colin cried and grasped his hand. His vision seemed to clear somewhat and he realized he was home. He clearly had no idea how he'd gotten there. Charles was already refilling the pail.

Colin finally focused on the man in his kitchen. He blinked in confusion. "Charles?" Instead of answering him, Charles threw another pail full of water directly into Colin's face. He started to refill the pail again.

"Charles, stop! Stop for Christ's sake! I'm awake," Colin begged. He was still reeling with alcohol, but flashes of memory were coming back. A look of terror replaced confusion. "Oh, God, Charles, where's May? Where's my wife?"

"She's with Elsie."

"Is she okay?"

"She's been better. You split her lip." Charles was not about to let Colin forget what he'd done.

"I have to see her. I didn't mean…I have to see her!" He was growing more and more desperate.

"That's not going to happen. Not any time soon."

Colin reacted as though he'd been struck. He crumbled to the floor and covered his face. He was wailing and crying. "Oh, God, I've done it now. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God..."

He kept repeating this as he rocked back and forth on the wet kitchen floor. Charles was at a loss what to do. He'd never seen anyone in such a state. Colin was devastated. _And rightfully so_, Charles thought, but he couldn't find comfort or joy in the pathetic man's current state. He pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Colin, watching over him with equal parts disgust and sympathy.

"Why, Colin? Why did you do it? Was the prospect of moving to Hull so terrible?"

"You wouldn't understand," Colin spat bitterly, water still running down from his hair. "You're a good person. People respect you."

"I've had to earn that respect."

"But I can't," Colin began to weep again. "I'm not a good person; I'm a drunk. She's the only good thing in my life, Charles. I can't live without her. Oh, God!"

"Is a drunk all you'll ever be, Colin? Do you believe that? Are you resigned to that?"

The broken man sobbed and nodded.

"Well, there is a woman, an intelligent woman, who _doesn't_ believe that. She thinks you can be something more. She loves you. She sent me to find you, so here I am."

"Now what?"

"Now, Elsie and I will take her to Hull with us." Charles' voice was reasonable and calm, as though explaining something to a child. "Moving to Hull could have been a new start for you, Colin. You could have had a job. You could have found friends who support you rather than prey on you and feed your illness."

"But not now?" Colin sniffed and looked up at Charles hopefully.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know." Charles couldn't look Colin in the eye; the hopeful despair was too painful to see. "You may get to see your wife again, someday, but you'll have to earn it."

"How?"

"It won't be easy, but I'll help you." Charles' response surprised them both.

"You will?"

"If you're truly willing to try," Charles promised. "Are you willing to fight, Colin?"

"To fight what?"

"Yourself. Are you willing to fight your demons?"

"I don't know if I can."

"I didn't ask if you could. I asked if you were willing. Will you fight for May? Will you fight for your marriage? Will you fight for your life?"

"What must I do?"

"For starters, I have to call to tell them that you're not dead. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back. If you aren't here when I get back, then I can't help you."

Charles pulled Colin up from the floor and set him at the table. He pushed the sandwich in front of him and filled the kettle for tea. "Eat this and make yourself a cup of tea when the water boils. Try to get some sleep after that."

Colin nodded and picked up the sandwich. "The post office will be closed, but there's a phone box in front of it. It's three blocks up. Just turn right when you leave the building."

"Thank you," Charles started to leave, but had another thought. "Is there any alcohol in the house?"

"A bottle of gin and a bottle of scotch in the pantry," Colin admitted.

"Not anymore." Charles informed him, hoping that truly was all the liquor in the apartment.

Charles walked the three blocks to the red and white concrete box. He had never used a telephone kiosk before. He wasn't even sure how it worked. He picked up the ear piece and clicked the lever.

"Please deposit three pence," a voice commanded. It was a woman's voice, but it was a hard voice. Charles looked at the phone, where were the coins meant to go? But then he remembered.

"I don't have any coins," Charles admitted. "I need to call someone. It's very important."

"Would they accept reversed charges?"

"I…I don't know. I think so. It's the Grand Hotel Blackpool. I'm a guest there. I'm trying to call the Duchess Suite."

"What's your name, please?"

"Charles Carson."

"Please hold."

Charles waited patiently. He heard some clicks and then, "Grand Hotel Blackpool. Concierge speaking."

"Yes, would you accept reverse charges from a Mr. Charles Carson? He claims to be a guest there."

"Of course we will accept the charges," the concierge said after a brief pause where Charles assumed the concierge was confirming that he was indeed a guest. "What can I do for you, Mr. Carson?"

"Could you please connect me to Mrs. Carson in the Duchess Suite?"

"At once."

"Thank you."

"Charles?" She answered before the first ring was complete.

"I've found him."

"And?"

"He's about as well as could be expected. He's alive at least."

"Thank goodness. May will be so relieved. _He's fine, May, no worries!"_ This last was not spoken directly into the phone. "She's resting in the other room. Are you coming back now?"

"I think I should stay with him, for a little while at least. He's still pretty distraught; downright despondent."

"Don't tell me you feel sorry for him!"

"I do, Elsie. I can't help it," Charles admitted. "He's a sad, pathetic drunk who's only ever had one bright spot in his life; just one good thing that he's always known he doesn't deserve. He's lived his whole life worried that he'll mess it up and lose her. Now he has. I admit. I do feel sorry for him. I want to sober him up and get him some proper food at least before abandoning him."

Elsie could not believe what she was hearing. "I thought you might want to beat him up, but I never imagined you'd want to nurse him."

"I promised May I'd make sure he was okay. If I leave him as he is now, I fear he might do himself a harm. I'm doing this for May, not for Colin."

Elsie could not argue with that. "Was he hard to find?"

"Not at all. In fact, he turned up right on his own doorstep." He'd tell her the whole truth another time.

TBC...

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**AN/ OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG! The UK premiere is THIS SUNDAY! I was hoping to have this story done by then, but that's not going to happen. For those of you in the states, do not fear. This story will remain SPOILER FREE even though I'll be posting after Series 5 starts in the UK.**

**On a side note, if 1924 politics are going to be a bone of contention between our lovely Chelsie, I wonder what Elsie and Charles would have to say about the upcoming vote for Scottish Independence. That might be a fight for the ages.**


	53. 3 AM Chips

**FYI; There were TWO UPDATES yesterday. Make sure you are up to speed before merging into this lane…**

**Also, these next few chapters contain situations and opinions that some may find disturbing. I promise you the physical abuse is over, but May is not free of Colin's influence. **

* * *

If Charles had known what the next few days held in store, he would have returned to the hotel and climbed into bed with Elsie and slept for a week. The first night started out without incident. Colin was asleep when Charles came back with some fish and chips he'd bought from a street vender.

After looking in on Colin, Charles had removed his coat and waistcoat and stretched out on the couch to sleep. He drifted off critiquing the couch in his mind. _Not quite long enough, but better than that first couch in Hull._ The most glaring thing wrong with this couch was that Elsie wasn't on it beside him.

Charles awoke with a start a few hours later. There was screaming coming from somewhere. A child? An injured animal? Charles shook his head to try and remember where he was. It came back suddenly as a wild-eyed Colin burst into the room. He was pale and sweaty. Charles thought of Mr. Lang when he'd awoken with his nightmares.

"May? Where's May? She's gone!" He saw Charles and lunged for him. "What have you done with her?" He gripped Charles at his biceps and shook.

"Colin, relax, she's with Elsie. Don't you remember?"

"Oh. Yeah, I remember." His eyes focused and he dropped his hands from Charles' arms. "I need a drink."

"I'm sure you do, but I won't be providing it."

"I don't need you. May left me the money." Colin pulled a cracker tin down from the shelf over the stove.

"To drink yourself to death? Is that why she left you the cash?" Charles checked the watch from the pocket of his waistcoat hung over a chair. "It's two o'clock in the morning. Where are you going to find anything open at this time of night?"

"You don't get about, do you?" Colin looked at Charles with ironic pity. "There's always somewhere."

Charles saw how badly Colin's hands were shaking as Colin pulled a five pound note out of the tin. Colin was obviously ill. Charles had to keep him from leaving at all costs.

"So you've already given up?" Charles asked. His sympathetic tone from earlier was gone. Charles was not in any mood to coddle Colin. "What was that; seven, maybe eight hours without a drink? Well done. Must be a new record."

Charles pulled on his waist coat and reached for his suit coat.

"Where are you going?" Colin asked in a panicked voice.

"I may not get about," Charles mocked, "but I know when I'm wasting my time."

Charles knew he was gambling, but he couldn't think of any other way to reach Colin. "If you leave this apartment, so do I. I'll tell May that you at least tried. There's no reason to hurt her by telling her the truth."

"What truth?"

"That she's less important to you than a bottle of gin."

"That isn't true."

"Then prove it." Charles and Colin were standing nose to nose now. There was a terrible smell coming from Colin's clammy skin; a sick, medicinal smell. Charles thought he smelled like the hospital during the war.

"How? I can't sleep." His manners were jerky and agitated. "I'll just have the nightmares."

"If you can't sleep, we'll stay up and talk." Charles said. "Go take a cold bath. I've got some fish and chips to heat up and I'll make us some tea."

Colin debated his options.

"At least try it my way. If you get bored, you can always leave," Charles reasoned.

Come to think of it, Colin found that he didn't feel very well at all and a nice cool bath certainly appealed to him. "Fine."

Charles sighed with relief over his small, albeit temporary victory. He turned on the stove and spread the fish and chips out on a metal baking sheet. Then, he set about preparing tea.

Twenty minutes later, Charles and Colin sat down to a late night/early morning meal of fish and chips.

"You've bought enough for an army," Colin joked as he reached for a second helping of chips. His color had returned and he was feeling much better.

"I wasn't sure how long we'd be here," Charles admitted. "We can run down to a market tomorrow."

Colin nodded and tucked into the chips. Then he remembered something. "I thought you were down South?"

"I was, but Elsie needed me here." Charles put more malt vinegar on his chips.

"Does anything faze you?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, you act like it's completely natural for us to be sitting here eating chips at three in the morning."

"They're good chips."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." Charles munched thoughtfully before continuing. "I wasn't unprepared for this. I just thought it would take place in Hull."

"What do you mean?"

"My friend, Nathan, the one you met at the Burns dinner, knows a group of men like you."

"There are thousands of men like me."

"But these men managed to stop drinking. Some of them even did so before they lost their jobs and their wives. Some didn't." Charles looked seriously across the plates of food at Colin. "They told me what you are in for. Depending on how much you've been drinking, it could get rough."

"My nightmares and the shaking?"

"That's all part of it. It shouldn't last more than a few days, but the cravings may take months to lessen. They'll never completely go away." Charles squirmed uncomfortably. He really had no idea what this man was going through. "I was going to introduce you to these guys in Hull. They were going to try and help you. They still can."

"Am I still welcome to go to Hull?"

"That's up to May."

"When can I see May?"

"I think it's best to wait a few days at least; until you're over the worst of the withdrawal."

"Withdrawal?"

"That's what they called it. Apparently, your body adjusts to the alcohol, trying to counteract the effects. That's why you're hyper and can't sleep. When you take away the alcohol, it takes your body time to readjust and return to normal."

"So it really is an illness; a physical illness?"

"According to these guys, it is."

"And the more I've been drinking, the worse it will be?"

"That's my understanding."

Colin finished his chips in silence. Charles yawned and started to clear.

"Do you think you can get a few more hours of sleep?"

"I'll try."

"Just wake me if you can't."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. This is just the beginning."

TBC…

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**AN/ Just a short one today. I'm really struggling with the tone of the next few chapters.**

**I know at times it will sound as though I am defending Colin or excusing his actions and choices. I am not. Do I want you to feel some measure of sympathy for him? Yes; no one is wholly bad and all people are deserving of our compassion. Having said that, the opinions and excuses expressed by characters are theirs and theirs alone. I'm trying to depict the situation as honestly as I can from multiple perspectives; none of which is 100% correct.**

**While our sense of justice wants to throw Colin under a bus tied to Mr. Green, normal, human compassion has us rooting for Colin to succeed and be the man May deserves. The fact is, that may not even be possible, but I think he would try.**

**I know that I'm crediting Charles with knowing more about alcoholism and detoxification than was common knowledge at the time. This is probably unrealistic, but I wanted to have a way to address the very real physiological issues of alcoholism. There were no 12 step programs back then, but I chose to think there might be a group of friends who have figured some of this out on their own.**

**Thank you for your support so far. I very much welcome your comments (in reviews or PMs) on this subject. **


	54. One Day at a Time

Colin slept for a few hours, but woke up in a cold sweat. He felt sick to his stomach. Unable to stand in his condition, he called out to Charles.

"What is it?" Charles asked sleepily from the doorway.

"The pail…get the pail," he panted. "Please hurry."

Charles understood immediately. He rushed to the kitchen and returned with the tin pail just in time. Colin emptied the fishy and chippy contents of his stomach into the pail. He felt better immediately and fell back on his pillow in relief. Charles felt Colin's forehead and felt the heat there. It wasn't a high fever, but it was definitely warm.

Charles took the pail to the kitchen and covered it with a towel until he could empty it into the commode in the communal bathroom one flight up. He filled a glass of water, wet two towels and went back to Colin.

"Here." Charles wiped Colin's mouth and chin with one towel and then folded the other and placed it over his brow. "Drink this." Charles was not a natural nurse. He wasn't one to usually do this sort of thing, but he'd seen Elsie in action many times. He knew what to do.

Colin drifted back into a fitful sleep. Charles watched over him for a time before leaving. He left the apartment briefly to dispose of the vomit and returned to his couch to grab what rest he could. It was less than an hour later when a frantic knock on the front door woke him.

"Who's there?"

"Charles? Open the door."

"Elsie?" He opened the door as quickly as he could. Elsie pushed into the room.

"Is she here?"

"What? Who? No one's here but me and Colin."

"May snuck out of the hotel sometime last night or this morning," Elsie told him. "I thought she'd come here."

"She still might," Charles pointed out. He took the opportunity to wrap Elsie in his arms and whisper, "I've missed you."

"Daft man," Elsie smiled and melted deeper into his embrace. "I've missed you too, though, I will say, Beryl doesn't hog the blanket the way you do."

"I only hog the blanket so you'll lay even closer to me," Charles teased. He held her tightly and felt stronger. Five seconds of holding her was worth five hours of sleep. "Don't you want to know how he is?"

"All I want to know is if he can sign divorce papers when the time comes." Elsie's voice was colder and sharper than Charles could remember hearing it except when she spoke of Tamara.

"That's up to May, Elsie. She's a stubborn Scot. The more you push her in one direction, the less space she'll have to make up her own mind."

Elsie looked up at her husband with a startled expression. "Are you presuming to tell me what's best for my own sister?"

"Are you going to presume to tell her what's best for her?" He rejoined. "We can help and support her, and him, but this is between them in the end."

"No. This is the end between them."

Before Charles could argue this with her there was a kerfuffle on the stairs. They heard Beryl's voice. "I don't think you should go up there, May."

Charles and Elsie rushed out of the apartment to intercept May on the stairs. They met her on the landing below the apartment door.

"I demand to see my husband!" May bellowed. She was carrying a canvas bag full of groceries which explained how Elsie and Beryl had beaten her to the apartment. "He needs me."

Charles flinched when he saw the color of her lip and chin. After a day, the bruises were still dark but the edges were turning blue and purple. He forced himself to be calm. "May, that's not a good idea. I'm taking care of him. I assure you, he's fine."

"You say he's fine, but how can I believe you? If he's fine, why can't I see him?" She tried to look around Charles to the door of her apartment. She called out, "Colin!"

Charles took the bag of groceries from her. "Thank you for the groceries, May. They are just what's needed."

His patronizing and dismissive tone angered the fiery Scot. She turned her considerable anger on him. "Just who do you think you are, Charles Carson? No one needs your help."

"May!" Elsie was livid.

"Or yours!" May yelled. The fear and frustration from the last few days and beyond flowed through her. "We were fine until the two of you decided to get married and have the perfect damn life together! And didn't you just love rubbing my nose in it?"

"What?" Elsie couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Oh, come to my wedding, May. Your drunk of a husband broke his leg falling in the gutter where he belongs? We'll just send the goddamned Lady of the house to fix it for you. We'll fix everything with money!" May's tone was a cruel and mocking version of Elsie's more refined accent. "Meet my fiancé. When he gets drunk on his stag night, he recites poetry and juggles for me."

"May, you're not being fair."

"Oh, May!" May continued mocking Elsie. "Your life is terrible, why don't you come work for me? I'm sure I can throw some crumbs your way."

"That is not…"

"I'm Elsie Hughes Carson, I shit gold and my life is fucking perfect!" May screamed at the top of her lungs.

Charles almost dropped the groceries. He couldn't believe he'd just heard such language from his wife's sister. He saw Elsie take a deep breath to retort but he stepped in.

"You have some valid points, May." Elsie glared at him, but he could only focus on one sister at a time. "Let's all talk about it in a few days when Colin is feeling better." His tone was softer now, more sympathetic.

"I want to see him now," she demanded, but her voice as calmer.

"He's too sick to see anyone."

"When he's sick, I give him a spot of gin. It's in the cupboard."

"I won't be giving him any gin."

"Just a wee bit. It helps him sleep."

"I don't need any gin, love." Colin said from the doorway above them. He was leaning heavily in the doorway wearing his robe. He was pale and sweaty. He wore a shabby robe and looked like death warmed over.

"Colin!" May pushed past Charles and rushed up to him.

Colin gasped as he saw her bruised face and split lip. "Oh, May, love, what did I do?" Tears filled his eyes. Shame burned in his chest. He wished a bolt of lightning would strike him right then and there.

"I hit a chair when I fell," she dismissed it easily. Charles saw Elsie's eyes narrow and her fists clinched. "Don't worry, love."

"No!" Elsie said in a voice that would make the Dowager Countess herself run for the hills. "You did not 'fall' onto a chair, May. You were shoved into that chair!"

She stomped up the steps to the landing.

"And you!" Elsie's eyes blazed at Colin. "You were the one who pushed her, you useless drunk!"

Colin dropped his head in shame. He knew the truth of it.

"How dare you!" May turned on her sister. She was not ready to put the blame where it belonged. "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know anything about our lives. You've been off in your posh world putting on airs and living like a damn princess."

"Have you looked in a mirror, May? Your face tells me everything I need to know." Elise grabbed May's hand. "We are going to Hull today!"

May jerked her hand away. "Run away? That's what you want me to do? That always been your answer, Elsie, not mine. You didn't like how Da treated Mum so you ran away! Well I stayed! My life with them was hell, but I stayed! And Colin stayed with me."

"You didn't have to. I told you not to marry Colin. I told you to come with me!" Elsie was near tears. Why was May bringing up their parents? "If you think my life is so perfect, you could have had it too."

"But I don't run from my problems. When I love someone, it isn't conditional. I can love people who aren't perfect."

Elsie was trembling with rage. Charles and Colin looked at each other. Their survival instincts told them to dash into the apartment and lock the door behind them. Their loyalty made them stay, but neither wanted to step between the warring sisters. Charles steeled himself to jump into the fray when Colin surprised them all.

He stepped between the sisters with his back to Elsie. "She's right, love." Colin cupped the unblemished side of May's face with one hand and brushed the back of the other gently over the damage he had caused. "Go to Hull with Elsie."

Elsie was still angry and was about to say something when she felt Charles pull her gently back. She turned on him to protest, but his eyes told her to calm down and wait.

"What are you saying?" May asked, taking Colin's hand away from her bruised face.

"I love you, Maisie May, but I'm sick."

"I'll help you."

"You've already tried, and I've done nothing but hurt you in return."

"This is the first time you've hurt me," May protested.

"This is the first time there were bruises. There are other ways to hurt someone. What I have is an illness, a cancer that has to be cut out. The process won't be easy. Charles knows people who have been through it; they can help me. You love me too much to do what has to be done. And I love you too much to risk hurting you again. Let Charles help me, love. I doubt I could hurt him and he doesn't love me at all."

"He's not wrong," Charles piped in. "He can't hurt me and I really couldn't care less about him."

May managed a small smile at this joke.

"Charles says the next few days are going to be pretty miserable. After that, it gets really hard." Colin smiled sadly at his wife. "I look better now than I did earlier. I don't want you to see me at my worst and I don't deserve your pity after what I've done. I need to do this for you, for myself and for us, but I need to do it without you."

Tears were running down both their faces. May wanted to protest. She wanted to find something in what he said that was untrue, but she couldn't. She knew he was sick. He had always been a drunk, but it was worse now and she didn't know what to do. It hurt her ego to think someone else could help him where she couldn't, but she knew in her heart that she couldn't fix him. "Can I at least tuck you into bed?"

Colin looked askance at Charles who nodded.

May and Colin disappeared into the apartment and Elsie rounded on Charles.

"What kind of promises have you made to him?"

"I didn't make any promises," Charles insisted. "But I told him he had no chance if he didn't sober up. I said I'd help him do that."

"She'll take him back," Elsie fumed. "She'd take him back now if we left them alone."

"Which is why we can't leave them alone. We have to be here for them."

"Are you accusing me of running away too?"

"No, love. I've never seen you as someone who runs from a challenge."

"But May thinks I do."

"She doesn't really believe any of the things she said."

"You heard her."

"May isn't thinking clearly right now. She's scared. Her whole life is about to change; a new city, a new husband in a sense."

"She's making a mistake if she takes him back."

"Maybe," he conceded. "But no one can know the inside of a marriage but the people in it.

"From our perspective, what Colin did was unforgivable, but they aren't us. They've been married for over forty-five years. We've been married less than four months. We don't have the right to tell them they shouldn't reconcile. Her only other option is to leave him to drink himself to death in St. Annes."

"Maybe she should."

"You don't mean that, Elsie." Charles watched his wife's anger still smoldering in her eyes. "He'll die without her and she'll blame herself."

"That's not a good reason to take him back."

"You're right, if that was the only reason. I know you're angry with her, Elsie. I know you're disappointed in her as you were with your mother."

"But she's making the same mistake our mother did."

"Colin isn't your father. He's willing to try to change."

"Da always said he'd change, but it was always a lie."

"Then we'll keep Colin honest. May needs you. She needs you to support her even if you think she's making a mistake. She doesn't need your anger and it doesn't help you much either."

Elsie opened her mouth to argue with him, but stopped. Finally, she nodded.

"You're a good sister."

"May doesn't think so. She said some pretty terrible things."

"I told you, she didn't mean them. Besides, I've heard the housemaids say worse about you," he said with an impish grin.

"And you didn't defend me?"

"You should have heard what they were saying about me!"

Elsie chuckled lightly and let Charles draw her into his protective bear hug.

This was how Beryl found them when she came tentatively up the stairs. "What's going on?"

"May is helping Colin back to bed. Then you three ladies will go back to the hotel," Charles explained. "Don't leave for Hull today, Elsie. Why don't you come back tomorrow? If he's feeling well, she can see him and I can see you."

She nodded.

"If you need more money, there's a chequebook in my bag."

"Oh, we brought you your bag!" Beryl held it up.

"Thank you. I was afraid I'd have to borrow some of Colin's clothes and they'd be too small." He pulled out the chequebook and gave it to Elsie. "Any bank can cash a cheque for you, though they might call Mr. Pease."

"Of course, we don't really need a cheque," Beryl said.

"Why's that?" Charles wondered.

"Haven't you heard?" Beryl said with a smile that made Elsie and Charles wary.

"Haven't I heard what?"

"Elsie shits gold!"

TBC…

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**AN/ In a way, May is working through the stages of grief. She's been living in denial, so anger was the next step; in this case misplaced anger, but then, it usually is. **

**Thank you for all your support, reviews and PMs. I wish this story could be ALL CHELSIE ALL THE TIME, but this is where the story has taken me. Thank you for following. I promise happier times ahead.**


	55. Sisters

Elsie and May silently agreed to an uneasy truce after the fight in the stairwell. Both sisters knew they needed to talk, but neither was willing to make the first overture. Beryl's presence both helped and hindered them. The jolly cook prattled on at full tilt all the way back to the hotel and all through luncheon. Finally, with her voice growing hoarse and weary, even Beryl ran out of things to say.

"Well, I'm knackered. I'm going to take a nap," she announced after luncheon. "You two should go for a walk." Leaving them no room to argue, Beryl marched through the lobby to head up to their suite. Elsie smiled as her friend passed right by the lift and headed for the stairs. Beryl was not enamored of the contraption, calling it a 'cage of death' and swearing never to set foot in one.

"It's still a little cold for a walk," Elsie commented. She knew weather was a safe topic of conversation.

"There's a public conservatory not too far from here. It will be much warmer," May offered. "Shall we walk there?"

"That sounds very nice," Elsie agreed stiffly. "I'd like that."

They walked in silence a few blocks up from the hotel and found an avenue protected from the wind. May led them surely towards their destination. This was her conversation to start. The courage she'd prayed for all morning finally found her.

"I'm sorry, El. I said some terrible things this morning and you didn't deserve any of them. I don't really feel that way." She bit the side of her lower lip. It was a habit so like her sister's, but not quite like. "I love you, El."

"I know that, May."

"I just get…" May's agitation returned, but she was able to control it. "Dammit, I'm the older sister. You should be looking up to me, not the other way round."

"I do look up to you, May." Elsie took May's arm and leaned into her. "I'll always look up to you. You taught me everything I know."

"Well I know that I taught you not to exaggerate," May smiled and playfully nudged Elsie's head from her shoulder.

"I'm sorry I left you in Argyll to face everything on your own, but I was dying there."

"I know, moppet. You were always more sensitive to the atmosphere in the house than I was."

"I still hate an atmosphere," Elsie admitted before she chuckled. "No one's called me 'moppet' since I started in service. Wouldn't my housemaids have had a field day with that?"

"Your housemaids? You aren't in service anymore," May reminded her.

"I know," Elsie sighed wistfully.

"Do you miss working at Downton?"

"Sometimes. I miss the people more than I miss the work."

"Beryl's certainly something."

"That she is."

"You're lucky to have a good friend like that," May said regretfully. "I was always so afraid people would judge Colin and me that I never let anyone get that close. You're still my best friend. You have no idea how much your letters have meant to me."

"Your letters mean the world to me too, but now I want us to live in the same town. I want to wake up and think, _'Maybe I'll have tea with May today._'"

"Is that why you've invented this job for me?"

"I may have exaggerated the importance of the position, but we do need more help. There really is a lot of work to be done."

May shook her head in disbelief. "Only you could retire and end up working harder than before. You could be sitting comfortably in a cottage at Downton, but you've decided to start this whole new life."

"You know it was more complicated than that. We weren't exactly welcome at Downton when we first married."

"But now that's all resolved and you're married to a man who is half butler, half Earl and half god." A hint of bitterness lingered in May's words, but she smirked.

"You might want to double check your math," Elsie tried not to puff up too proudly at this fitting description of her man. _Except May forgot that he's half bear as well._

"You know what I mean. I love Charles, El, for your sake, but if he gets any more perfect, I may have to strangle him."

"He isn't perfect." Elsie didn't sound too convincing.

"Really? Name one way he's imperfect," May challenged.

Elsie had to think about that one, but finally answered, "It took him twenty years to realize he was in love with me. You and Colin knew when you were fourteen and he was sixteen."

May nodded and smiled at the memory of young love. She and Colin would talk for hours about getting out of Argyll and starting their live in a big city. While they had eventually accomplished this, it wasn't exactly how they had dreamed.

Elsie finally asked the question that had haunted her since seeing her sister's bleeding face. "Why didn't you tell me how bad it had gotten? You know you could have."

"That's an easy one to answer. I was ashamed, El." They'd reached the greenhouse. They left a few pence in the donation box and walked into the almost tropical heat. There were people all around them, so the sisters stopped talking until they found a bench in a secluded area near some very boring ferns.

"El, it's important that you know that it hasn't been this bad for our whole marriage. There have been some really good years. Colin was a rock for me when Mum and Da were still alive. After Mum died, if I hadn't had Colin, I don't know what would have happened." May held both of Elsie's hands in her lap. "Colin just knew how to handle Da. Maybe because he understood a little of what it was like being controlled by the drink."

"Where did it go wrong?"

"He's always had troubles, off and on, you know that, but he kept them under control. After Da died and we sold the farm to move here, we were in a respectable neighborhood. His work was steady during the summer. He didn't want to embarrass me in front of the neighbors, so he made sure he only went to the pub with enough money for two pints. He'd get into a spot of trouble if someone bought a few rounds, but for the most part, he was alright. We were alright."

May stopped talking as a couple walked by arm in arm.

"After the war, jobs were harder to find and the rent went up. We had to move. He changed. It was like the joy was sucked out of him. I know he felt like he'd failed me, but we couldn't talk about it. Talking just made it worse because neither of us had an answer.

"There were no decent neighbors to impress and he didn't like being in the apartment or around me. He spent more and more time down at the pubs.

"I should have told you. I wanted to tell you, but then you wrote about your heir dying in a car crash and you hinted that something had changed between you and Charles. The house was in mourning, you were busy and I didn't want to add to your burdens."

"It wouldn't have mattered, May. If you'd asked I'd have dropped everything to come help," Elsie insisted.

"Even Charles?"

"He would have understood. He would have waited."

"I know that now. I'm ready to ask for your help."

"I'll do everything I can, May, but I'm still having difficulty with the notion of you taking him back. Even if this is the first time he's hurt you for the world to see." Elsie needed to be honest with her sister. "I know Colin and Charles say it's a disease, but all I see is a drunk who hurt you; who has hurt you for years.

"I see you making excuses for him the way Mum did for Da and want better for you." Hot tears were stinging Elsie's eyes.

"Charles tells me this isn't my call. This decision is yours and yours alone, but if you do decide to invite him to come with you to Hull... If you decide to give him a second chance, please promise me…" She gripped May's hands almost painfully. "_Swear_ to me that you will tell me if he ever hurts you or threatens you again."

"I promise, Elsie."

"And you'll leave him?"

"I promise to tell you."

Elsie knew she could expect no more for now.

"Alright. Let's get back to the hotel. Beryl will be up soon and she is a terror if she doesn't get her tea."

-00-

The next day Elsie and May showed up at the apartment. There was a note on the door that simply read, _'Not today'._

Elsie led her disappointed sister back to the hotel where Beryl tried to distract them both with hopeful talk of Hull. This gave Elsie the idea to call Hull and speak to Suzanne. Suzanne was thrilled to have May on board. When Suzanne finally rang off, May's spirits were considerably lifted by the prospects of her new life.

The rest of the day passed lazily, but none of the three women could rest easy. They were women of action, not leisure. May took Beryl and Elsie to her favorite restaurant in Lytham for dinner. When they returned to the hotel the desk clerk signaled to the bell hop who politely asked Elsie to step to the front desk.

"These arrived for you while you were out, Mrs. Carson. I believe they were forwarded from an inn in St. Annes."

He handed her two envelopes. She recognized the writing on both letters. Elsie quickly tore into the letter that wasn't from Charles.

TBC…


	56. Fleeting Connections

The door opened after May's second knock. Charles slipped quickly out onto the landing. He looked as haggard and pale as Colin had two days before. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair unkempt. It was clear to Elsie that he hadn't gotten much sleep.

"Good morning," Charles smiled tiredly at them both. The shadow of scruff on his face accentuated the dimple in his chin. "We were hoping you'd come by today. Colin's just freshening up."

Though the apartment did not have a commode, it did have a small water closet with a sink and tub.

"How's he doing?" May asked.

"I think he's through the worst of the withdrawal," Charles told her, though he had no way of really knowing if this was true. The past two days had been much worse than he'd anticipated. Colin's mood could change on a dime. One moment, he would be crying and contrite and the next he would be screaming with rage. The absolute worse had been the hallucinations. At one point, Colin had been convinced that there were maggots and flies everywhere in the apartment. Charles had been forced to restrain Colin to keep him from scratching the backs of his hands until they bled. He'd wrapped the poor man tightly in a blanket with his arms pinned to his sides and then had held him as they both sat on the floor of the apartment.

There had been a few terrible hours where Charles realized that he was in over his head. He needed help, but he couldn't leave Colin to call for it. Just when his desperation was such that he considered calling for the neighbor and sending him for Elsie, Colin awoke as if from a fitful sleep with clear eyes. He was distraught and upset, but he was lucid, which was a huge improvement.

Charles decided the ladies didn't need to know the particulars. "He's been calmer. He slept five straight hours last night."

"Did you?" Elsie wondered, reaching her hand out to him.

"I've gone without sleep before," he reassured her and took her hand.

"You were a younger man then," she reminded him.

The apartment door opened and Colin stood there. He looked much more rested than Charles did. He'd put on a suit and tie and his hair was slicked back with water. The only sign of his recent trials was the scrub on his face. Charles had thought better of giving Colin access to his razor considering some of the things that had been said over the past few days.

"May, thank you for coming." Colin's eyes darted around manically. He couldn't focus on anything, especially the purple stain on his wife's face. "Might I ask you to come in? I would be most obliged if we could talk."

May hardly recognized her own husband. He hadn't dressed this nicely since their wedding day. His careful manners with her drove home the fact that in many ways, they were starting over. She could see that he wanted to change for her. She wondered if he could. She prayed that he could. She looked at Elsie who gave a reluctant smile of encouragement.

"I think we _should_ talk, Colin," she accepted and stepped into the apartment.

When the door closed, Elsie immediately grabbed Charles by his ears and pulled him down so she could kiss him. Words were not enough to express just how proud she was of him. She felt his smile grow as she chewed teasingly on his lower lip.

"That was almost worth waiting for," he sighed.

"Almost? I must be doing it wrong."

"No, love, I'm just too tired to appreciate your wonderful talents just now."

"Here, sit down." She held his arm as he sat down upon the stairs just a little below the landing. Elsie sat on the landing above and behind him. She began kneading his shoulders. He immediately relaxed and leaned back against her legs with a satisfied grunt.

"What was I thinking?" He groaned. "I wasn't ready for this, Elsie. I never imagined how bad it would get. Nathan's friends warned me, but…I just wasn't ready."

"You've done so well. I'm so proud of you. Besides, you said the worst is over."

"I'm just guessing. How the hell should I know?" Charles admitted. "I've just been reacting, telling Colin what he needs to hear any given moment. I've contradicted myself a thousand times."

Elsie understood how much this must bother him. "Colin is not going to hold you to anything you've said. He knows they aren't promises."

"I hope you're right."

"You are a wonderful man, Charles Carson, to be doing this for Colin, I just can't say it enough; you are wonderful."

"I'm not doing this for Colin," Charles reminded her as he felt his knotted muscles melting under her touch.

"I know," Elsie kissed his forehead as he leaned his head back. "Thank you."

"What has May said on the subject? Will she take him back?"

"I don't think not taking him back was never an option for her, but Beryl and I have gotten her to think about Hull. She knows she is welcome there, with or without Colin."

Charles closed his eyes and rolled his head side to side as she massaged his neck. "How are you doing with that?"

"I'm still trying to make my peace with her decision, but I know May needs my support more than she needs my warnings. For now."

"That's very wise, love." He hummed happily as she leaned forward, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and lay her head on his shoulder. "I thought we'd have fewer people dependent on us once we left service, but we seem to have more."

"It's funny you should mention that…" Elsie hated to ruin the moment, but she had to tell him. "I have to go to London."

"London?" He sat up straight and twisted to face her.

"I've heard from Anna."

"Is she alright? Is Mr. Bates okay?"

"Yes, they're both fine."

"Then what's going on?"

"Their trip to London wasn't just a second honeymoon," Elsie confessed. "Anna's trying to conceive a child."

"She doesn't need you for that. Isn't that something for Mr. Bates to handle?"

"Daft man. They're at a clinic; a fertility clinic."

"There are clinics for…that?" Charles looked appalled at the thought.

"Yes, there are and Anna's having a procedure tomorrow."

Charles understood. "And she needs her Mum?"

Elsie smiled and nodded. "Charles, I want to be there."

He pulled her down to sit across his lap. "May needs you here."

"She's doing better. We've talked it through. She'll be fine."

"_I_ need you here," he pouted and Elsie's resolve waivered. "I came here to be with you and I've not seen you for a full hour since I arrived."

"You didn't come here to be with me."

"I didn't?" He was pretty sure he had.

"No, you came to _help_ me, and you have. I wish we had more time together as well, but I will make it up to you, my love." She scratched his rough chin before she kissed his smooth lips. She loved this contrast of textures on his face. He was leaning in for more when she said, "By the way, I got your letter."

"My letter?"

"The one you sent from Kirby Hall. The landlord at the inn forwarded it on to the hotel."

"That all seems so long ago," he smiled wearily.

"You didn't tell me that Robert and Guy crashed the day before you flew here with Guy."

"It wasn't really a crash, it was an unpowered landing," Charles shrugged. "I only used that word so you'd be impressed when Robert told you."

"Regardless, it makes what you did for me even more amazing; flying here, knowing the risk. If I weren't so impressed, I'd be angry with you for doing something so dangerous." She kissed him gently on the nose. "I promise to thank you properly when we get home." She nibbled his earlobe as he nuzzled into her neck.

"I can guarantee that will be a promise you will enjoy fulfilling," he growled in the low, seductive voice that he knew drove her mad.

She pulled back so she could have another go at his now swollen lips. Her lips and tongue silently promised him unspeakable rewards. His hand gripped her side, his thumb caressing just below her breast. Fatigue was forgotten. A fantasy filled his mind. He imagined her straddling him right here on the stairs. He imagined tearing open her blouse, tasting her creamy skin and making her scream out in ecstasy on May and Colin's doorstep in broad daylight.

For her part, Elsie was dreaming of reducing her powerful man to a bowl of quivering gelatin with a few strategic strokes of her tongue and a firm grip. She wanted to push him on to his back, undo his trousers and lower her hungry mouth…

"You two are disgusting," May scolded with a roguish smile. Colin stood beside her trying not to smirk. Charles was so badly startled that he stood suddenly and almost dropped Elsie down the last few steps of the short flight of stairs. He managed to catch her arm and steady her as she caught the bannister.

"Good gracious, May! How long have you been standing there?" A very flushed and disheveled Elsie demanded.

"Long enough to know it was time to stop you."

May gave Colin a chaste kiss on the cheek and started down the stairs past the would-be-exhibitionist lovers. "Beryl and I will be back tonight to cook you both a proper dinner, Charles."

"Have you been complaining about my cooking?" Charles pretended to be hurt as he tilted his head at Colin.

"No offense, mate. I'll never be able to repay everything you've already done for me, but I don't think I can take another supper of sandwiches and your idea of a salad."

"I wouldn't say no to a hot meal myself," Charles admitted. "We'll see you later then, May."

He pulled Elsie tight against him. "And when will I see you, little miss?"

"Two, maybe three days, love. I can join you here, at Downton or at Hull. Send word to London when you have a plan. Beryl has all the contact information for Mr. Bates." She walked up a few steps so she was eye to eye with him. She kissed him as chastely as May had kissed Colin, and she whispered very low, "I love you."

"And I love you. Give my love to Anna and John."

The two men watched their wives spiral down the stairway and out of sight. After a few moments Charles finally stopped watching the empty staircase and turned to Colin. "You owe me," he said very seriously before offering a sideways grin. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a bath."

Charles walked into the apartment as he muttered to himself, "A cold, _cold _bath."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ So it's kind of a mixed bag today; Chelsie make out session, but she's off to London. But don't worry! They will be back together VERY SOON! I promise.**

**I know it's getting harder to focus with the premiere approaching, but I do love to hear from you.**


	57. Mama Hughes

Elsie Carson dozed as her train bumped its way Northward; towards Hull, towards Home, towards Him.

Four eventful days had passed since she'd gone to London. She'd had a letter from Charles and she's sent a letter and a telegram to him, but this meager contact did nothing to alleviate the sting of separation. Her only consolation was that she felt she had been truly of service to Anna and Mr. Bates.

When Elsie had first arrived in London she was greeted by a radiant Anna and a sullen Mr. Bates. Elsie determined to get to the bottom of their opposing attitudes as quickly as possible, but decided that could wait.

"I'm so glad you're here, Mrs. Carson," Anna sounded happier than Elsie could remember in recent months.

"I'm glad I could make it, child." Elsie hugged Anna and whispered, "When is the procedure?"

"Tomorrow morning, and then I'm to stay at the clinic for a few days; flat on my back."

"Is Mr. Bates to stay with you?"

"No," John frowned. "No overnight visitors."

"Well, we'll be there as long as they'll let us," Elsie assured them both. "I suppose I should procure some lodgings. Is there an hotel near the clinic?"

"As a matter of fact…I hope you don't mind…" Anna's bit her lip in a habit similar to Elsie's.

"Aunt Elsie!" Elsie was still not used to that title, nor to the warmth in a voice that was usually so cool.

"Lady Mary?"

"You must learn to drop the title; we are family," Mary reminded Elsie with no real hope of success. "Aunt Rosamund is billeting us both while we are in London."

So Elsie, Anna and John had been whisked off by Mary to Rosamund's. After all the niceties were observed, Elsie was able to have Anna to herself briefly as they walked in the park opposite Rosamund's house.

Anna explained that when she'd called Lady Mary to explain her prolonged absence, Anna's well-meaning but officious employer had invited herself to London to 'help'. Mary had contacted Rosamund and now both Ladies were well aware of Anna's situation. This was particularly vexing to Mr. Bates because the doctor had determined that he was likely the reason Anna had not yet conceived. John was not thrilled to have so many people brought in on such a private subject.

"Low count and motility? No, I've never heard of that. Is it serious?" Elsie asked.

"Not really. There are ways to improve it. The doctor has given John a list of foods, told him to avoid hot baths and few things he won't even discuss with me."

"If the problem is with him, why is the procedure to be performed on you?"

"They're going to concentrate his…seed and inject it…" Anna blushed at the thought. "It isn't dangerous, but I'm very nervous. I've never been… I mean John is the only man who…"

"Yes, I see what you mean," Elsie was very sympathetic. She'd experienced much of that same anxiety when Dr. Clarkson had examined her breast. To him, it was just flesh that needed to be examined and treated. To her, it was something tender and sensitive that no man had ever touched.

"I'm afraid that if you're going to have a baby, you'll have to get used to the notion of all kinds of doctors, midwives and nurses seeing you and looking after you."

"I suppose that's true."

"This will just be your training for the actual birth. Compared to the audience you'll have then, this is likely to be nothing."

"But you'll be there?"

"For the birth? Try and stop me!"

Anna smiled at the thought, "Of course at the birth, but I mean tomorrow."

"They'll let me be there?"

"I'll be awake and John will be there."

"Are you sure you want me as well?"

"If you don't come, Lady Mary will," Anna confessed. "She's been very supportive, but I don't think her presence will allow John to relax and if he doesn't relax…"

"Neither will you," Elsie finished.

"Even if it didn't prevent Lady Mary from attending, I would want you there regardless." Anna sat on a bench in the park and gestured for Elsie to sit beside her. "I know it's terribly old fashioned of me, but I can't get used to the idea of getting pregnant this way."

"Sometimes nature needs a hand. I've seen things like this done on farms when I was growing up."

"Exactly, it's what they do with animals; livestock. I'm a person. John wants to be a father so badly that he's going along with this, but I can tell it's bothering him."

"With the changes he's implementing, is this procedure absolutely necessary?"

"The doctor says this might not work, but the timing is too perfect to pass up. He says I'm ovulating. Stress and lack of sleep is apparently a factor in sperm count and motility as well. Stress could be affecting me as well. When we get back to Downton, we'll be right back to our usual routines."

"You don't have to return to Downton, not as a lady's maid and a valet." Elsie reminded her. "I mean, what will you do when you become a mother?"

"Lady Mary and Lord Grantham have been so supportive. They've said they will be willing to let us raise the child at Downton."

"I'm sure they are _willing_, but don't think for a moment that they won't expect you to be just as attentive and accommodating as always. You'll be lucky to see your child an hour a day." Elsie was incensed. "You can't be thinking of staying on, even if Mr. Bates must."

"Mr. Carson's been so kind to offer to help us purchase the Grantham Arms, but John and I think that would be taking advantage of his kindness. The two of you need that money for your retirement."

"Don't worry about us, Anna. Think of your child, your _children_ perhaps."

"That's putting the cart before the horse, Mrs. Carson."

"You're right, child. Let's focus on tomorrow." Elsie placed an arm around Anna and cradled her reassuringly. "I wish you'd call me 'Elsie'. I'm not your superior any longer."

"But I respect you too much to just call you by your first name," Anna insisted. "Maybe I could call you 'Auntie Elsie' too?"

Elsie supposed it was better than nothing, but she wasn't happy with that solution. When she did not answer in the affirmative, Anna pulled out of Elsie's arms so she could read Elsie's face.

"If that's how you see me," Elsie finally shrugged. "As an auntie."

Anna could see that Elsie was hurt. "I see you as so much more. Do you know Gwen and I used to call you 'Mama Hughes'."

"Did you now? I've been called worse."

"Gwen might have meant it sarcastically, but I never did," Anna assured her. "You've done so much for me, but I don't want to presume. You've raised so many girls through the years."

"But none like you, Anna. None as sweet as you and none that I am as proud of."

"I can't really call you 'Mama Hughes' anymore, but could I call you 'Mum'?"

Elsie felt the tear growing in her eye, but she was not ashamed to show emotion before this dear child. "I'd be honored, dear."

Anna let Elsie embrace her again. Tears of joy streaked her face. Somehow the prospect of being a mother was not as frightening to Anna now that she had a Mum of her own by her side.

-00-

The procedure had been quick and clinical. John and Elsie had held Anna's hands as the doctor performed his work hidden behind a sheet which tastefully shrouded Anna's lower body from their sight.

Anna had to spend the next forty-eight hours reclined with her feet up. During this time, it was up to Elsie to clear the room when Anna needed to sleep or just when Lady Mary was beginning to annoy Mr. Bates. Elsie had told Anna and John about Colin and May. John was particularly sympathetic, given his own past with alcohol.

Elsie had heard from Charles, but the letter didn't tell her much. He only told her things were progressing and when he would be back in Hull. He would be home the day Anna was released from the clinic. As soon as Anna was released, Elsie had taken the first available train North. Anna had insisted that she would be just fine.

"I'm through the scary part. May needs you more than I do right now. Believe me, that is saying something."

-00-

Elsie Carson climbed the steps to her flat in Hull. It was half past nine. She was almost ashamed to admit how angry she was with her husband. After all he had done over the past week she didn't feel the right to be so miffed that he didn't meet her train. Yet, there it was. He'd better have a blasted good reason for not being there.

She'd sent him a telegram the day before telling him exactly when she would arrive. She'd not received any confirmation that he'd received it, but she hadn't expected any. She'd dreamed all the way from London of seeing his smiling face as she disembarked. Elsie had not known just how much she was anticipating seeing him until she was standing on the empty platform alone. At first, she told herself he was just running late, but that was not like him. She was not going to stand about like a fool waiting for him.

The cab dropped her at the warehouse door. The neighborhood was deserted at this time of night. The driver asked yet again if she was sure of the address. Elsie finally snapped at him, "It's my home; I should think I would know the bleeding address!"

She paused as she saw the little pile of mail that had accumulated under the slot. They didn't receive much mail, but they'd both been gone over a week so there was and this pile was the result of that. It wouldn't be like Charles to just leave the mail here if he was home. Through her anger, the thought did occur that perhaps he wasn't home yet. Maybe something had happened.

Elsie took the last few steps two at a time and fumbled with the key to open the door. There was one lamp burning in the sitting room. There was no light coming from the hallway that lead to their office, bedroom or bath. Elsie saw two things on the kitchen table; her telegram and a bouquet of flowers still wrapped in paper. So he had been home. But where was he now?

Elsie walked down the hall and checked all the rooms. A wet towel hung over the side of the tub as evidence that he'd recently taken a bath. A pair of scuffed and filthy shoes had been kicked into the corner. Charles' Sunday best shoes were gone.

Maybe he had gone to meet her, but they'd missed each other. _But why leave the flowers?_ She thought. _Unless…_

She hurried back to the sitting room, but he wasn't asleep on the couch as she'd expected. Frustrated, Elsie stood in the kitchen and thought. That was when she heard it; the familiar sound of Charles breathing as he slept. Elsie actually walked into the sitting room now and realized why she hadn't seen him. He wasn't on the couch or even on the floor. Charles was slumped over in the high-backed leather chair beside the cold fireplace. If she hadn't heard his usual tiny snore, she might have worried that there was something wrong with him, but it was clear that his malady was exhaustion. He'd only managed to tie one shoe before falling asleep.

As tired as he obviously was, she couldn't let him sleep there all night. Elsie walked around in front of him and kneeled down to wake him gently. "Charles," she whispered, calling him slowly back from slumber. "Charles, I need you to stand up."

"Mmhm. Forgot dressing gong." He muttered but kept sleeping.

"No, you didn't forget the dressing gong," she chuckled. "You forgot to pick your wife up at the train station."

"Hmm? Wha…what?" He started awake with a snort and several flexes of the eyebrows. "Elsie!"

Charles looked at her as a thirsty wanderer considers an oasis. Was she really there? She smiled to assure him that she was, but then frowned when she saw his face in the light of the lamp. What she had taken for a shadow was in fact a black eye.

"What happened?" She touched his face with tender concern.

He misunderstood her question. "I was going to meet you, but I must have fallen asleep."

"I mean your eye. What happened to your eye?"

"That? Oh, that's from days ago. I'll tell you about it later. You know what they say; 'You should see the other guy.'" It was a joke from his Vaudeville days. Like every good set up line, there were a million punch lines. Today he opted for, "Because I sure didn't."

"This is no joking matter, Charles."

"Is Anna alright?"

"Yes, but don't change the subject."

"I said that I would tell you, but not right now." Charles stood and pulled her into his arms. "I've missed you, love." He whispered behind her ear. His lips tickled her earlobe briefly before they sought their equals. She leaned into the kiss and almost lost herself in the pleasurable act, but then she remembered that he was injured.

"I've missed you too, love, but…"

"Elsie, I'm fine," he cut her off. "You're home. Anna, John, May and Colin are all fine. Let's leave it there for now. Please? I'm not sure I have the energy to change for bed, let alone recount my recent adventures."

Leaning on her, Charles began shuffling towards the bedroom but stopped and looked towards the kitchen. "I got you flowers."

"Yes, I saw. I'll put them in some water in a bit. They've lasted this long."

He blinked with heavy lids and nodded his acceptance of her logic. When they reached the bedroom, she turned down the bed and helped him out of his suit. He was fast asleep on his pillow long before she finally removed his socks and tucked the sheet up to his chin. Elsie went to the kitchen and put the flowers in a pitcher of water. She turned out the other lights in the flat and returned to the bedroom.

She undressed quickly and was about to slip on her nightgown when she had another idea. _What was good for gander was good for the goose,_ she thought as she slipped under the sheet wearing only her skivvies. His back was to her, but she tugged gently on his bicep to guide him onto his back. She snuggled up against him and he naturally slung an arm around her.

They both slept contentedly for the first time in over a week. They both dreamed of what would happen when they woke up.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/Quick note re: Artificial Insemination. According to the internet, the first successful clinical insemination of a human was in the 1950's, but it has been around much longer than that. There is anecdotal evidence as far back as the fifteen century. The Catholic Church came out against it in 1909, so it was definitely around. Of course, it's been a tool in animal husbandry for a long time. **

**This is my weird spin on Anna being 'violated' by and possibly impregnated by a man who is not Mr. Bates (though the sperm is Mr. Bates'). I cannot tell you how difficult it was to resist making a 'Mr. Bates masturbates' joke in this chapter, but Elsie and Anna are too classy for that. I'm sure Mary and Rosamund found time to laugh about it.  
**

**I've glossed over most of her London trip because I wanted to get back to Hull (and Chelsie) more quickly.**

**Speaking of which...OMG! It's here! The premiere is just a few excruciatingly long hours away!**

**Just a reminder, this story will be spoiler free. Please keep your comments likewise. Feel free to PM me if you want to discuss Series 5, but I don't want to ruin anything for my fellow Yanks.**


	58. Awaken to a Dream

Charles Carson did not want to wake. In his dreams he held his beloved close, smelling her lavender scent and caressing her impossibly soft skin. He fancied that he heard her whispering tantalizing promises in his ear, but he knew it would all evaporate when he awoke. Elsie was in London. He and Colin were still driving back to Hull. They'd stopped at the Downton cottage for the night. Maybe that's why the sheets smelled of her…

But that had been last night, a voice in his mind insisted. Details percolated through the sleep into his consciousness. They'd driven the last leg to Hull already and he was supposed to meet Elsie's train…

But he'd missed her train. She had found him asleep in the chair and…

Charles' eyes shot open. Elsie was smiling down at him. She was propped up on one elbow and fondling his hair.

"I thought you were going to hibernate the whole winter," she teased.

"I still might," he quipped back. He pushed up on his own elbow to face her and flexed his bushy eyebrows at her. "Care to join me?"

"Whatever you wish, love." She rubbed her tiny nose playfully against his prominent proboscis and kissed his upper lip. Her arm reached around him to rub his broad, smooth back.

"It will take some time to do everything I've wished over the past few days," Charles confessed huskily. "But being here with you is an integral part of all of them."

"Then this is a good place to start," Elsie purred. She let him draw her flush against him. He gave her a look of surprise as his hand pressed against the bare small of her back.

"Mrs. Carson, where is your nightgown?" He did not sound scandalized. His voice sounded more as though he was gently scolding a young footman who had forgotten to wear his gloves.

"Do you know, I have no idea, Mr. Carson. My nightgown is probably off somewhere cavorting with your pajamas. Would you like me to go and look for them?" She started to roll away, but he held her fast.

"That won't be necessary," Charles laughed. His hand ran up her back and found the back of her brassiere. "Besides, they might not wish to be disturbed."

This notion made Elsie chuckle. "And what do you suppose they might be up to?"

"If they are anything like their owners, they are up to no good." He kissed her shoulder and pulled the strap of her brassiere down with his pinky.

Before she let herself get lost in him, Elsie had to ask. "Are _we_ likely to be interrupted? Where are May and Colin?"

Charles closed his eyes in frustration and sighed. "They're fine. We'll see them for dinner."

"I'm sorry but I had to ask."

"I know," he smiled sadly.

Elsie could see that Charles had reached the end of his benevolence to his fellow man.

"You've handled all of that so well, Charles. I have to say again how thankful I am."

"They needed help and I'm glad we could help them and I'm glad you could help Anna, but…"

"But what?"

"But we need to learn to be more assertive with people. We have to tell them no sometimes; especially when it comes to putting aside time for us."

Though he was unselfish by nature, in their short months of retirement, she knew he had come to value his freedom from other people's problems. He had come to be very possessive of their time together and she loved him for it.

"I agree. What do you propose we do about it?"

"For starters, for the next six hours can we please pretend that there are no other people in all the world?" His eyes were like a begging basset hound. "After that, I want to hear all about Anna and London and I will tell you all about May and Colin."

"I will agree to postpone the outside world, Charles, but I have to know now…what happened to your eye?"

"Just a bit of silliness," he said dismissively playing with her brassiere strap.

"Then it won't take long to tell me." She swatted his hand playfully.

"Fine," Charles pouted and gave in. "Colin wanted to say goodbye to his mates. I didn't see any harm in it since it was just ten in the morning on a weekday."

"But a fight broke out?"

"Not at first. You'd think the proper response to someone who buys you four rounds of drinks would be a thank you, not a fist to the eye."

"Why on earth would you buy them four rounds?"

"It wasn't all at the same pub, but by the time we reached the fourth we had a following. By then it was time to leave or we wouldn't reach Downton before dark. The crowd did not respond well when Colin said there wasn't going to be another stop on his farewell tour."

Charles shook his head at the memory. "Then someone pointed out that Colin hadn't been drinking. This caused a furor when he still refused to share a drink with them. Most of the crowd started to shout that Colin thought he was too good to drink with them. A few defended his choice and even supported him. Then someone threw a bottle and it all went sour in the blink of an eye."

"Why didn't you just get out?"

"I tried. In fact, I was at the bar settling the bill when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned right into a fist. He was just a little bloke, so it didn't hurt much, but I was none too happy. Another fellow tried to hit me with a stool. I'm very sorry to say that I stooped their level and shoved them both with the stool quite hard." Charles looked ashamed of his actions. "Luckily, Colin was already ducking for the door. We made it outside without further incident and made our escape from St. Annes."

"Goodness, what an adventure!" Elsie wasn't sure she would ever admit to him how much it excited her to think of him in the thick of a real fight. She knew he wasn't one for fighting, but he was built like a brawler and she would have loved to see him teaching manners to a bunch of drunks. It was a fantastical dream, but one she could not shake.

"I am ashamed that I let myself get drawn in like that," Charles frowned.

"Drawn in? Where I'm standing you didn't have a choice. You were attacked." She stroked along the edge of the bruising. "Does it hurt now?"

"Not at the moment." Charles didn't want to seem weak, but he was rather enjoying the sympathy his injury was garnering. "It was a bit tender the first few days."

"My poor man." Elsie kissed just below his eye very tenderly. Charles closed his eyes to feel her warm, loving breath on his face.

"You mustn't pity me, my dear. I could never be considered a poor man when you are in my arms." He squeezed his arms around her.

"I'm glad to see your gift for eloquence was unaffected," Elsie giggled as his fingers tickled along her spine.

"Shall I show you something else that was unaffected?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Though the fight wasn't strictly Marquis of Queensbury, certain rules were observed."

"Might you be referring to no hitting below the belt?" Elsie's thumb slid teasingly under the waistband of his undershorts.

"I might." Charles returned his attentions to her back and the straps at her shoulders.

"Mm. Perhaps I should check, just to be sure." Elsie brought her hand back to his chest but began to slide lower in the bed.

"If you must, you must," Charles threw his hands up in willful surrender.

"That was neat trick." Elsie laughed because hanging from the thumbs of his upheld hands was her lovely lace brassiere. "You'll have to show me how you did that."

"Anytime, my dear," he smiled wickedly and tossed the lacy garment aside. "Now, knickers are a tad more difficult, but I'm willing to give it a go."

Elsie thought of several rejoinders, but she didn't want to get distracted by a match of wits. She knew best how to end his teasing and one up him at the same time.

"Very well, my man," Elsie drew herself back up towards the head of the bed where he was now sitting up propped against the headboard. She knelt on her knees beside him, her breasts right at his eye level. "Have your go."

Charles Carson did not have to be asked twice. In the grappling match that followed, the Marquis of Queensbury's rules were most pleasurably ignored.

TBC…

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**AN/ This was delayed by a busy weekend of football and Downton anticipation (oh, and the last weekend of summer). **

**Best guess, we are just over 2/3 through this installment. I'd love to hear what you want to see happen. Right now there are only 2 things written in stone...someone dies and they go to Italy (in that order, so they are both safe).**


	59. Old Goat

**AN/ Due to all the suggestions, this story is getting a huge time jump. We join them now, six month later. Charles and Elsie are just waking up from hibernation and…**

**Nah, not really, but we won't rush them back to the world beyond their doorstep just yet.**

* * *

"Whose idea was this?" Charles was attempting to pour more wine into Elsie's glass as she sat opposite him in the tub.

"I think we are both to blame. I said I hadn't had a nice hot bath in days and you said you hadn't had a drink in a week," Elsie reminded him. His feet were tucked neatly beside her bum. One of her hands rested easily on his knee that was an island in the water between them. Her feet were resting easily on his hips and she would occasionally run them up his thighs. "Aren't you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much, my dear, but we need glassware that isn't…well, _glass_."

Elsie laughed at his concern. She wanted to take him seriously, but his expression and tone could not negate the fact that he was sitting in water just above his navel and his chest was covered in suds. "You mean you can't relax completely because you are worried we're going to break something?"

"I don't want you to get cut nor do I particularly want to get cut."

"Next time we'll used tin mugs and a pewter pitcher," Elsie promised. She did see his point, but she could not remember the last time Charles Carson had broken glassware. She thought it might have been the time Tom and Sybil had come back for Mary's wedding. He'd come down that night with a shamed look on his face and had shown her a neatly severed piece of stemware. It had taken her some time to finally get the story of how it was broken out of him.

"This time, Charles, we'll just be careful. You've already wrapped that wine bottle tighter than a swaddled bairn."

He smiled at that and did finally relax. "This is quite good, don't you think?" He asked. They were enjoying a bottle of red from one of the vintners they would be visiting in Italy. With his free hand, he massaged one of her calves and caressed her leg.

"Mmhm." She took a sip and felt the cumulative giddiness of the alcohol, the warmth of the bath and the joy of being home wash through her. She had a rather naughty thought. Just as he was mid-sip, Elsie suddenly asked, "Did you know a hot bath can negatively affect your sperm motility?"

Charles barely avoided spitting wine all over himself and Elsie. As it was, some did manage to splash back at him as he expectorated back into his glass. Elsie had been expecting a reaction, but not one quite this entertaining. Charles glowered at his hysterical wife with several trickles of wine on his chin.

"Why?" He blustered. "Why would you even _say_ something like that?"

"I was just trying to share some relevant scientific knowledge." Her attempt at an innocent expression had exactly the opposite effect. Incidentally, it also made her irresistible to him and all was forgiven.

"Please give me proper warning the next time you intend to share such knowledge," he smirked at her as he washed his chin.

"What would be the fun in that?"

Charles looked at his ruined glass of wine and frowned. Elsie took the glass from him and set it on the chair they'd pulled up beside the tub as a makeshift table. She took another sip from her own glass before handing it to him. Charles took it with reluctant gratitude.

"Was that your way of introducing the subject of Anna and Mr. Bates?"

"Was I too subtle?" Elsie smiled to see that he swallowed his wine quickly and avoided sipping when she started to speak.

"I would never accuse you of _that_," Charles chuckled. He took another sip of wine and handed the almost empty glass back to her. Elsie finished off the wine and set the glass aside. She took up the soap and began to wash herself in a slow and luxurious way. "If we must talk, you either need to stop that or you must come over here."

"Why?" She was toying with him and he knew it; he loved it.

"Because otherwise, I will not hear a word you say," came the honest and earnest response. "Perhaps we can wait just a little longer to talk? Just thirty minutes more?"

Charles awaited her answer. He was willing to negotiate for more or less time. She leaned forward and motioned for him to do the same. He obeyed. Elsie gave him a long, smoldering kiss and ran her hands through his hair. When she was done, he leaned back with a very satisfied smile on his face and his hair pulled into two tiny horns just above his forehead. She giggled.

"There's your answer."

"What?"

"Can you see yourself in the mirror?

Charles sat up and turned towards the sink. He had to lift himself up a bit to see. With the scowl and thickening hair on his face, he did look rather sinister with the horns she'd given him. "So?"

"You are a horny, old goat," she laughed. His scandalized gape made her laugh harder.

"Do you know? I think this is a look I could make work." Charles chuckled and tilted his head as if admiring his own image. He even dipped his hands in the water and went about smoothing and improving his horns.

"Now you're a _vain_ and horny, old goat." Elsie couldn't resist splashing him.

Charles returned his attentions to her. He grabbed her hands to stop the splashing. "Who are you calling 'old'?"

"I'm calling you old, old man."

"I shall take that challenge," Charles announced to the empty room. He reached forward and grasped her by the waist. He held her up as she brought her legs under her so she was able to turn herself around in the tub. When he lay back, she was able lay her head on his broad, sudsy chest. His hands stroked her body above and below the waterline. "This is much better."

"Now you'll be able to listen to what I'm saying?" Elsie was dubious.

"What?" Charles was clearly ignoring everything she said and concentrating on enticing her.

"Very well," Elsie muttered, happily giving in to his seduction, "thirty minutes,"

-00-

One hour and three rooms later, they both lay exhausted across their bed. Their knees were still red from kneeling in the porcelain tub, his body pressed urgently behind her. There was an ink stain on her thigh as a souvenir from their stopover on his desk.

"Where did you hear about _that?_" Charles wondered. He lay looking up at the ceiling. He still tingled head to toe with the excitement of what they'd just done. His heartbeat was just now returning to normal.

"I walked in on a maid and a house guest once when I was working in London," Elsie told him from where she lay beside him. Her body was so relaxed that she could not move from where she had landed when she first rolled off of him. "Neither of them saw me. They were having too much fun."

"I can well imagine. Actually," Charles yawned contentedly. "I don't have to imagine, do I?"

"Don't you go falling asleep now, Charles Carson," Elsie slapped playfully at the thigh beside her cheek. "Get up here. It's time we talk. May and Colin will be here in…just over three hours."

Pouting slightly, Charles removed his feet from his pillow and sat up to bring his head up to the top of the bed. Elsie handed him his robe. "What's this?"

"We can't have any more detours. Put this on." Elsie then slipped into her own robe.

"If you think putting that on makes you any less distracting to me, you are sorely mistaken," he informed her.

"What would I have to do to be less distracting?"

"You could blindfold me," he suggested. "But, no, I could still hear your voice and that actually might excite me more." Just the thought made his pulse quicken again.

"Horny, old goat," Elsie smiled at him. "You need to cool down. We need to talk before May and Colin get here. There's a lot to catch up on."

"But I've missed you, love." He pulled her up beside him and petted at the silkiness of her robe.

Elsie was finding it hard to concentrate, but their time was running out. "We have to talk about what happens next for May and I need to tell you about Mr. Bates' infertility."

"Well, that's done it." Charles slumped back against the headboard as he finally accepted that the fun was over for the moment. "If we must discuss this, then we must."

"Thank you, love."

Elsie quickly brought Charles up to speed regarding Anna and John's hopes and chances at success. She glossed over some of the more delicate specifics to protect Anna's privacy and Charles' delicate sensibilities.

"Do they not want to run the Grantham Arms? It would be perfect for them." Charles couldn't understand the younger couple's reticence.

"I think Mr. Bates feels that he owes a certain allegiance to Robert. He gave him work when no one else would."

"Robert has done a great deal for Mr. Bates, as Mary has done for Anna, but they aren't slaves or pets. They are human beings!" Charles response came out more vehemently than he'd intended. "If he remains as valet, is Anna to give up her position? They won't have enough money to raise a child properly and John will never see his own family."

"Why are you so upset with him?" Elsie was intrigued at her husband's obvious distress. Charles was clearly vexed with what he saw as Mr. Bates' selfishness.

"A married man ought to put his wife above all else. And a father…" Charles stopped here. How could he know what a father ought to do? He'd had two fathers and he barely knew either of them. Added to that, he'd given up his own chance at fatherhood. How many times since meeting Elsie had he weighed out in his mind what he could offer her compared to what she had achieved without him? His calculations and practical adherence to them had led him to deny them the chance of being parents.

"What about a father?" Elsie prodded gently. She could see the conflicting emotions in his face.

"A father should move Heaven and earth to be with his child as much as possible," he said simply.

"I'm sure they'll make the right decision when the time comes. Right now, they are too scared and superstitious to make plans around a child. It will only make their disappointment greater if they fail," Elsie explained. "Let's wait and see what happens."

This smoothed Charles' ruffled feathers somewhat. "Wait and see. Sounds like a plan."

"Now, tell me what's happened with May and with Colin." Elsie was excited to hear what had happened after she left Lancashire. "You may skip the part about the brawl in the pub if you like."

TBC…

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**AN/ Though Carson will always first and foremost be a Yorkshire bear, I'm adding 'goat' to the menagerie of descriptions I have for him.**


	60. A Bump in the Road

Elsie was ready to snuggle up to her husband and listen to his story with her ear against his chest, but Charles had other ideas. He rolled off the bed and began to rummage in this chest of drawers.

"What are you doing?"

"I am getting dressed." He pulled a fresh pair of shorts from the top drawer and stepped into them. "Would you please do likewise, Elsie? I have something to show you."

His words were ill-timed, for just as he said them, he had bent down and given her a full shot of his pale derriere under his robe.

"Yes, very nice," she joked.

"Not that," he admonished. His face was flushed and Elsie marveled that she could still embarrass him after some of the things they'd done; some of the things they'd _just_ done especially. "Do you want to hear my tale or not?"

She resisted the urge to say something about 'seeing his tail'. "Why are you being so mysterious?"

"I'm not being mysterious; you are being overly suspicious." He was already pulling up his trousers.

Elsie got up and began to dress when she realized that he was not going to give her any more information until she did so. They dressed in efficient silence though she did catch him watching her a few times in the mirror at her vanity.

"You don't have to put your hair up," he told her when she was almost finished dressing. "We aren't going far."

"Will I need a hat?" Elsie finished her hair in a tight braid.

"No, no hat or coat."

"Are we even leaving the flat?"

"Oh, yes." Charles smiled at her and decided it was time to start his story.

"After you left for London Colin and I had a long talk. We both agreed that there would be more help for him in Hull than in St. Annes, whether May took him back or not."

Charles and Elsie passed through their flat to the front door.

"We started packing their things almost immediately. I quickly realized that it was not going to be a simple matter of sending a few trunks on the train. For one thing, Colin didn't think May would be willing to leave the bedroom suite behind."

"It was my parents'; a wedding gift from a wealthy aunt," Elsie explained.

"So he said." Charles nodded as he locked the door behind them. "As you know, moving furniture by rail is a nightmare. You remember that fiasco in aught eight."

"I do indeed." Elsie preceded him down the stairs. Outside the street level door, she waited for direction. Charles offered his arm and led her towards the nearest corner.

"When May and Beryl came for supper the four of us discussed the options." Charles and Elsie turned the corner and continued to walk along the warehouse exterior wall.

Charles reached into his pocket and withdrew a small keychain. "In the end, we all agreed." He stopped beside the warehouse door and unlocked it. "There was only thing for it."

He escorted her through the door to the warehouse floor that was empty save for…

"A truck? You bought a truck?" Elsie could not believe her eyes.

"Technically, it's a van and, technically, 'Three Lassies Event Planning' bought a truck."

"We never agreed on that name," Elsie objected.

"Suzanne quite likes it, but I'll leave that for you lassies to resolve. All I know is that she approved the purchase. She'd have asked you, but you were unavailable for consultation."

Elsie looked more closely at the shiny, black vehicle. She saw that it had a cab that would seat three across. The back compartment was open to the cab and was fully enclosed. Two large doors made up the rear of the van. It was obviously surplus goods from the war; most likely an ambulance of some sort, though larger than any Elsie had seen. A medical cross had been painted over, but the outline was still discernable. Charles was standing next to the truck proudly.

"And I suppose the 'Three Lassies' are leasing this warehouse now?" Elsie frowned, looking around at the empty space.

"For the time being. Long term negotiations are waiting for the last 'Lassie'." Charles was perplexed at her lack of enthusiasm. "We've discussed this all before, Elsie; the truck, the warehouse. I thought you'd be pleased."

"We did discuss this and I thought we'd agreed to wait."

"We did wait, but I thought the time was right." Charles' brow was knit with consternation.

"But you made the decision without me."

"I didn't make any decision. I made a suggestion. Suzanne and Emily made the decision. They agreed that I should purchase a vehicle for the business," Charles couldn't believe he was under fire for trying to do what was best for everyone. It made him peevish. "I did the best I could. If you wanted it done differently, you should have stayed and done it yourself."

Elsie knew he had a point. "I'm sorry. I trusted you to look after things and I'm grateful for what you did, Charles, truly, I am. I'm just concerned."

"What about?"

She walked around the van and opened the cab door on the driver's side. "It feels like…" Elsie wasn't sure how to explain her misgivings. "Well, there was a problem and you solved it by throwing money at it. We said we wouldn't let the money change us."

She climbed in and sat in the van's driver's seat.

"It was going to cost money to move them here. We knew that going in. We agreed to that." Charles reminded her.

"Buying them train tickets isn't the same as buying a truck."

"Isn't it? Either way, it's charity. Frankly, I don't see what's wrong with throwing money at a problem when you have the money to throw." Charles argued. He was leaning on the open door of the cab. "But you needn't worry. I purchased the truck, yes, but not with our money."

"What do you mean?"

"I offered to provide the money and have the business pay us back, but Emily insisted that she and Fredrick would buy the van. She feels like you and Suzanne are doing most of the work and she wanted to contribute something."

"Oh," Elsie felt silly. "I'm sorry, love, but you might have told me that from the beginning."

"I didn't expect you to react this way." Charles was scratching at his scruffy chin. Now he was worried about how she might react to some of the other decisions they'd made in her absence.

"Finish your story, please. I want to hear about May." Elsie scooted over to the middle of the van's seat and Charles climbed in after her to sit in the seat she'd just vacated.

"The truck was purchased the day after you left. We spent the rest of the day and all the next packing. Everything was arranged for May and Colin to have somewhere to stay here in Hull until they make other arrangements. Beryl and May left the morning of the unfortunate misunderstanding at the pub."

Elsie nodded as he spoke, but was growing more and more impatient. She wished he'd get to the part about her sister.

"Colin and I drove to Downton. Do you know, it only took just over three hours? While we were at Downton, Tom looked over the engine and gave the van good marks. We drove to Hull the next day.

"It only took us two hours to drive here from Downton." Charles shook his head in wonder. "You never think how close things really are. For some reason, having to stick to the train timetable and go just where the rails can take you…I don't know, it makes things feel further apart than they are. Getting on a train to go somewhere seems like such a production, but just jumping in the van and heading off..."

"Charles!" Elsie was beside herself with agitation. "As fascinating as this is, all I want is to hear about May. I want to know how my sister is doing and what steps have been taken to ensure that Colin stays sober and that she stays safe."

"Right, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just excited about the van."

"And I want to hear all about it later. For now, please just tell me about the plan for May and Colin," Elsie begged. She couldn't express why it was so important for her to know the details now. She'd been content to know almost nothing since arriving back home. Being with Charles had been all the assurance she needed that May was well, but now Elsie felt a panicked urgency to know the details.

"Right, May has forgiven Colin for shoving her and she is open to reconciliation." This was nothing new to Elsie. "However, they both agree that Colin still has some work to do to rebuild her trust. For now, May is staying with Fredrick and Emily while Colin is staying with Nathan and Suzanne.

"Their plan is for May to find an apartment and move in as soon as possible. Colin will stay with Nathan or possibly move in with one of Nathan's sober society friends. They'll both work for you and Suzanne and go from there." Charles looked at Elsie to see how she was absorbing the news.

"She hasn't taken him back?"

"Not completely. It's not as simple as that, for either of them." He placed his arm behind her on the seat. Elsie scooted back over to lean against him and let him put his arm around her.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, Charles."

"My stories do tend to be a bit dry," he accepted her apology.

"I was just worried about May. Also, I know you weren't thinking about the money as anything but a means to a solution. You saw a problem and knew you could fix it." She kissed his cheek and patted his chest as they cuddled in the front seat. "That's who you are and I love that. I just worry that we need to be careful."

"I'll try to be more mindful of using money as the easy out, but I didn't see our solution as throwing money at a problem."

"I know."

Elsie put a hand on the steering wheel and looked at the shifting lever. "Obviously, you enjoyed the drive."

"It was a bit of a bumpy ride, but it was so different passing through the countryside in the van rather than a train. In a train, you feel so detached, like you're watching it all go by on a movie screen." Charles gripped the wheel with the hand that was not wrapped around her. "I can take you for a ride sometime if you like, Mrs. Carson."

"That would be lovely, Mr. Carson, but for one thing; you don't know how to drive," Elsie reminded him gently.

"Oh, but I do. Colin taught me."

"He never did!" Elsie couldn't picture her nineteenth century man driving a modern automobile. "How did that go?"

"About as well as you'd expect," Charles chuckled.

"So, not well?"

"Let's just say that some of my patience during Colin's ordeal has already been repaid."

"But you could start up this truck right now and drive us wherever we wanted to go?"

"I need a bit more practice before I'll be confident enough to head out on my own, but eventually, yes." He puffed up proudly at the prospect of driving his wife about. "It would make visiting Beryl and Anna easier. We wouldn't have to stick to the train schedules. The roads between here and Downton are decent and the signposts are easy to follow during the day. Well, relatively easy. We did take one wrong turn and would have ended up in Derby if we hadn't run out of gas."

"It sounds like you really did have an adventure," Elsie was much more relaxed now. She was relieved to know that May hadn't just blindly accepted Colin back into her house.

"I'll let Colin tell you about it tonight," he squeezed her tighter and lay his cheek on the top of her head. "I suppose we should go look out some food to feed your family when they show up."

"They're your family too."

"Don't remind me."

TBC…

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**AN/ This is me, asking you to love me… or just review, if you aren't ready for that kind of commitment;)**


	61. Saturday Matinee

Over Hull, the grey and dreary March skies gave way to grey and rainy April skies, but May McAvoy lived in a world suffused with sunlight.

It was quickly apparent that Elsie had not exaggerated her need for help. The business was booming. They were already booking events into July with most weekends booked for multiple events.

There were clients to meet with, venues to reserve and servers to interview and train. Their little office was a hive of activity. May had integrated into the business seamlessly. She enjoyed having her morning tea with the girls as they talked about the day ahead. Sometimes Charles would stick his head in the office and ask Elsie out to lunch. Sometimes he would invite Suzanne and May as well.

Emily didn't come into the office every day, but she sometimes walked with May and Fredrick to work and would share tea with her partners. May had gone from having no friends to having a small, supportive community around her. Elsie had to finally order May to stop thanking her, but the order was suspended when May received her first paycheck. There were tears all around on that day. Charles, who had just come by to see if Elsie fancied some tea, had walked into a room full of crying women. The look on his face as he beat a hasty retreat had caused the women to laugh and cry even more hysterically.

When the day came for her to move into her flat, she experienced a confusing mixture of emotions. She was excited and frightened to be living on her own but she was sad to leave Emily and Fredrick's home. She would miss the girls and the rowdy dinner table, but she was looking forward to a quiet and controlled atmosphere.

On April first, the truck was unloaded into her new flat. Charles, Nathan and Fredrick spent an entire day rearranging the furniture in endless permutations until May was satisfied. Colin had driven the truck and helped unload, but it was difficult for him to be around the flat that could have been his home. They both still held out hope that it would someday be their home.

Colin was thriving as well. Nathan had introduced Colin to the local sobriety society. They had meetings twice a week where they shared their stories of addiction; stories of loss and of triumph. Colin wondered which his own story would be in the end.

Colin had moved out of Suzanne and Nathan's and was renting a room from one of the other members. His cravings were lessening, but they still existed. During the day, he was busy enough to drown out the desire to drink. It was in the quietest hours of the night that his desires demanded to be heard.

On his first night in his new home, the call of the booze had been so strong that he had been considering sneaking out for just one pint. Just when he's almost made up his mind to go, Brian, Colin's new housemate, had shown up at his door with a pot of coffee and an attentive ear.

Busy did not begin to describe Colin's life. He was the business' Jack of all trades. He helped Elsie prepare the warehouse for training and ran messages, but it wasn't his work for Elsie and Suzanne that kept him busiest.

After some heated debate, a name was agreed upon and Colin had painted the side of the van, _'East Riding Event Planning and Staffing Solutions_'.

"It's awfully dry," Emily said disappointedly.

"No one is going to take a business named 'Three Lassies' seriously," Elsie had argued.

"Four lassies now," Suzanne had joked.

"It could be a thousand lassies, but it won't change the fact that it doesn't sound professional," Elsie had reminded them, though she was glad to see how quickly they'd taken May into the fold.

With the name settled, Colin had painstakingly designed, marked out and painted the name on the van in large, white lettering. The owner of the local gas station had remarked on the quality of the work and soon, Colin had negotiated a part time job at the station's garage. He helped with painting and cosmetic repairs in exchange for a small, hourly wage and training as a mechanic. Colin had always been handy with the tractors when they still worked the land. He was learning quickly and enjoying the camaraderie of the garage. Of course, he had to decline when the lads invited him to drop in at the pub after work, but he had a handy excuse, 'My wife is waiting for me.'

Most nights, it was true. When there weren't sobriety meetings, he met May in the park near her flat. They'd sit on a bench or walk through the park as they discussed their day. Then, Colin would walk her back to her flat and bid her goodnight with a handshake or a chaste hug.

The subsequent walk back to his room over a mile away was often the most difficult part of the day. Leaving May each night reminded him of what he still stood to lose if he couldn't remain clean. He felt an emptiness that alcohol would once have filled. Colin had mapped out a route that avoided taking him past any pubs, but the sounds of revelers still followed him and the odd waft of beer as he passed men on their ways home from the pub. Colin envied these men. Most of them could enjoy drinking, enjoy the sociability of it, but he could not.

He'd drunk most of his life but could only remember a handful of times when it had been enjoyable. Drinking wasn't something Colin had ever done for fun. It had been something he did to function, or so he had thought. Colin was doing better than he could ever have dreamed, but he had not yet conquered his demon.

After several weeks settling in to life at Hull Colin asked May to attend a movie with him. He'd received his first pay from the garage and wanted to give her a treat.

May felt like a girl of eighteen when he came to meet her at her flat. He had greased his hair and splurged on a shave and haircut. When she answered the door, he handed her flowers and complimented her new hairstyle. They had walked arm in arm to the cinema.

They left the dreary Saturday afternoon behind them and stepped into the plush velvet of the cinema lobby. Colin insisted on paying for everything himself. May thought his coat buttons would burst with pride when he paid for her pop and chocolates with the money he'd earned at the garage. She understood that this money meant more to him than what he earned working for Elsie and Suzanne. He was grateful to Elsie for his work, but he'd earned the garage job on his own merits.

They'd decided to attend the matinee because the subject was _Rob Roy_. The evening showing was _Vanity Fair, _which May knew would be too heavy for their first date in over forty years. Also, the early show allowed Colin to take her to tea and cakes after. A later show would have forced them to brave a pub or call an early end to the outing.

Over tea, they held hands and blushed like young lovers while they talked about how much the scenery from the film reminded them of home.

"I remember Scotland as being a good deal greener." Colin had joked.

"Must have been a dry summer," May laughed.

When they could not possibly drink any more tea, the couple strolled as slowly as they could towards her flat.

"We could sit in the park for a while," Colin offered. It was a silly suggestion. The day was damp and cold. Sitting in the park was hardly an ideal option, but he did not want to let their day end.

"You could come up to the flat," May said quietly. Colin almost thought he'd imagined it until she added, "I'll make us some coffee."

"I'd like that," he answered, though coffee was the last thing he needed after two pots of tea.

Her hands shook slightly as she unlocked the outer door to the building. May's flat was only one flight up, but May was nervous that she wouldn't make it to her door. Her knees were unsteady until she looked at Colin. He looked more frightened than she felt. She smiled at him and he shyly dropped his eyes.

His hands were sweating. _'Pull yourself together, man,'_ he thought. _'She's your wife, for crying out loud. It's not as if this is the first time…' _He couldn't even complete the thought.

Upon seeing Colin's anxiety, May found herself growing bolder. The more intimate aspects of their relationship had long ago lost their heat. There was still an attraction on both sides, but the alcohol had affected Colin's drive and performance. May found herself tingling to find out if his new lifestyle had improved matters.

They reached her door and May unlocked it with smooth ease. She half opened the door and stopped.

"On second thought, maybe coffee isn't a good idea," she said.

"If that's what you want." Colin's countenance was half relief and half despair. "I've had a lovely afternoon, May. I hope we can have more days like this."

His eyes were as clear and earnest as they had been when he was a lad and she was a lass. May was reminded why she had fallen for him all those years ago. She knew that she loved him. She had always loved him, but now he was a man she could be proud of. Even if he failed, he was trying for her.

May traced the lapel of his Sunday best jacket with a finger as she smiled up at him. "_This _is what I want." Suddenly, she gripped his lapel and pulled him down for a kiss as she backed them into her flat and shut the door firmly behind them.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ Whoa, look out for those Hughes sisters! There was a request for some May and Colin [Maylin? / Coy?] romance, so I hope you enjoyed this. Everything is not decided between them, but they are both growing and I didn't want them to necessarily grow apart.**

**More Chelsie next chapter…**

**I have a busy weekend, so I don't know when the next post will be. Until then… Chelsie On!**


	62. Steak and Potatoes

"The candles are a nice touch, Charles," Elise lay her hand on his leg as he sat beside her at their tiny table.

"I do have some experience setting tables, my dear," Charles winked.

"It shows." Elsie smiled at her husband. "And thank you for cooking dinner."

"You've worked so hard this week. It's the least I could do." She had indeed been busy this past week. In fact this was the first night they'd eaten dinner at home.

"We said we'd spend more time with just the two of us and I've hardly been home this week," she apologized.

"It's understandable," Charles shrugged understandingly. "Starting a business takes a lot of work up front. And we'll be leaving for Italy in a few weeks. I've been quite busy myself."

"Still, I'd like to reward your patience."

Her relaxed demeanor was reward enough, though, if he were being honest, he wouldn't say no to something more. He met her half way for a kiss that tasted like the fine Chianti they'd been enjoying.

"Who would have suspected that my husband knew how to fry a steak?"

"Nathan taught me. He says a man who can't cook a steak isn't a man."

"Well, I don't agree with that, but I am glad_ my_ man can do it."

"Not much to it; a hot skillet, some salt, pepper, butter. The butcher did most of the work," Charles said modestly.

"I'd say the cow did most of the work," Elsie teased.

Charles laughed. "Just, please don't tell Beryl; she thinks steak and potatoes are bland and American."

"She doesn't know what she's been missing." Elsie kissed him again.

"Maybe Mr. Mason can show her what she's been missing." Charles gave his eyebrows two suggestive pumps.

Elsie swatted his knee. "You're as incorrigible as the worst fishwife."

"I was referring to the joys of simplistic cooking. I don't know to what _you _were referring?" Charles took her hand and kissed her wrist affectionately. "Perhaps you'd like to explain it to me?"

"I think it would be easier to _show_ you. Shall we relocate to the couch?"

"Mmm. I thought you never ask," Charles chuckled. He helped her to her feet and took up the half empty wine bottle from the table as he followed her from their tiny kitchen and strode towards their couch.

Elsie kicked off her shoes and sighed as she stretched out on the couch. She took the wine from Charles and topped off both of their glasses.

"Now, what were you going to show me?" Charles cast his arm around the back of the couch and settled beside her. Elsie ran her fingers along the open collar of his shirt and pulled him towards her.

There was a knock on the door.

"Bloody hell," Charles growled.

"Ignore it," Elsie whispered.

More knocking and a voice, "Charles!"

"Is that Colin?" Charles asked Elsie unnecessarily.

Elsie sighed and took Charles' glass of wine. "Make him go away quickly."

Charles nodded as he forced himself away from her and stalked to the door. He flung it open. "This had better be…"

A weeping Colin fell into his arms. "I've screwed up, Charles."

Elsie rushed to the door. "Where's May? Is she alright? Did you hurt her again?" She demanded.

Colin looked at her in horror. "No, I haven't been anywhere near May tonight."

"Then how have you screwed up?" Charles asked before Elsie could ask anything else.

"Mr. Jeffers let me do a full engine rebuild on my own. I finished it today. The boys wanted to celebrate. I couldn't turn them down."

"You went to a pub with them?" Charles supplied the next piece of the puzzle as he escorted Colin to a chair in the kitchen.

"I didn't have anything at first," Colin nodded. "But they wanted to toast me. I picked up my ale, I pretended to drink, but someone slapped me on the back and I swallowed some by mistake."

Colin started blubbering. "It tasted so good and I thought…I thought one beer wouldn't hurt. Then it was another and someone ordered whiskey and I was about to drink it when…"

Colin was wringing his hands nervously as he spoke. "In the sobriety group, the guys recommend a technique; when you feel tempted to drink, remember your lowest moment. I thought of May. I thought of how she cried out when I pushed her into the chair and of her split lip when I saw her next.

"I panicked. I just ran out of there. I've probably lost my job at the garage, but worst of all, I've failed May. I can't be a drunk. I never want to be that man again. Please don't tell her what I've done." He looked at Elsie pleadingly.

"I don't keep secrets from my sister, Mr. McAvoy," Elsie said coldly. She wanted to feel superior but she could not. Despite her fierce protective instincts, Elsie felt her loathing for this man lessen. For her sister's sake, she offered the man May loved some comfort. "But this isn't the travesty you seem to think. No one expected this to be easy or that you would never falter. May knows you are trying. As long as you are willing to try and able to acknowledge your setbacks, there is hope."

"Thank you, Elsie, thank you." Colin fell out of the chain and hugged her knees.

"Get up, Colin," Charles pulled him to his feet. "Let's go back to the pub. If the lads are still there, we'll explain things. Then, I'll walk you home."

"You mean _tell _them? Tell them I'm a drunk?" Colin was aghast.

"Tell them you won't be joining them in the pub ever again," Charles corrected, pulling his coat off the rack beside the door. "If you want to keep that job, it's your only chance."

"Alright," Colin agreed. He straightened his own coat and tried to gather himself to follow Charles.

"Colin."

"Yes, Elsie?" He turned to face her.

"No one expects you to be perfect, Colin, and I wish you success."

"Thank y-"

But Elsie wasn't finished. She stepped up so her nose was only an inch from his chin. "But if you hurt my sister in any way, you will die wishing you were never born."

Her eyes burned up at him, but Colin did not drop his gaze from the fire. "You're right; I will."

Charles came back from the door and laid a hand on Colin's shoulder. "Let's go." He looked with concern at his wife. "Will you be alright?"

Elsie nodded quickly, but did not speak. Charles did not want to leave her in such and agitated state but he had to see after Colin first.

"I'll be right back," he promised.

TBC...

* * *

**AN/ Yes, YET ANOTHER interruption. It's their lot in life, apparently.**

**Sorry this is so short, but I have to go catch up on my reading...**

**Please leave a note if you've the time. Just a reminder to please keep comments Series 5 free. **


	63. Remember the Laughter

When he returned an hour later, Charles found her sleeping on the couch. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. The wine sat untouched since he'd left.

Charles sat beside her, placed his arm around her and stroked her hair. "Elsie? Wake up, love."

"Mmm. Five more minutes."

"Okay, five more minutes." He pulled her close and sat for a while before picking her up and carrying her to the bedroom.

He'd let her hair down and managed to remove her skirt. She woke up just as he finished unbuttoning her blouse.

"Are you trying to take advantage of me, Mr. Carson?" She trailed her fingers along his jaw. Charles sat on the bed beside her with a chuckle.

"Would you like for me to?"

"Very much, but first, thank you for helping Colin."

"I just chucked him into the first pub I passed and hurried back to you."

"No you didn't," she smiled, but there was something sad there still. "We really should lock the street level door."

"I only left it open because the paper boy needs to get in tomorrow morning. He's bringing you a chocolate croissant."

"Even a chocolate croissant isn't worth all these interruptions, but Colin really needed you tonight. How did things really go? What about Colin's boss?"

"He appreciated Colin's honesty and promised never to buy him another pint." Charles reported. "Colin's housemate was up when I got him home and said they'd talk it through. So, that's another crisis handled."

Charles brushed a lock of hair back from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. "Now, love, tell me why you were so upset."

"I don't know what mean."

"Don't deflect, Elsie. Why were you crying?"

"Who says I was crying?"

He just sat and stared at her. She sat up and took off her blouse.

"You can't distract me, love," Charles scolded and handed Elsie her nightgown. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I will, but could you join me first?" She patted the bed. Charles took off his shoes, socks, shirt and trousers before crawling in beside her. She pulled off her brassiere and pulled on her nightgown as she waited. When he was in bed, she lay her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"Was it about Colin?" He guessed. It had certainly been triggered by Colin's visit.

"Not really. Somewhat."

"You were very kind to Colin tonight, that can't have been easy. I know you still don't trust him."

"Kind to him? When was I kind to him? You mean when I threatened him?"

"Before that, you comforted him and told him he didn't have to be perfect. It was the nicest you've been to him since we left St. Annes." Charles ran his hand up and down her arm that lay across his stomach. "Are you still upset with May?"

"A little."

He thought he knew what was truly bothering her, but he didn't know how to bring it up gently. Direct was the only way he knew how to be. "Is this about your parents?"

The tears on his chest were his answer. He let he cry silently for a bit before he pressed on.

"Tell me, love."

"I never thought…Seeing Colin made me wonder. Maybe my father felt the same way Colin does. Maybe he knew he was sick. Maybe he didn't want to be like he was."

"He probably didn't," Charles spoke into her hair as her head was tucked under his chin.

"I wonder if they ever talked about it. Did he promise to change? Is that why she gave him chance after chance?"

"I imagine they were just trying to keep their family together, but beyond that, you may never get any answers, love."

"I know, but it would make it easier if I did."

"Make what easier?"

"Forgiving them. I think I've forgiven May, but I can't forgive Colin or my parents. Not yet."

"At this point, maybe it isn't about forgiving. It's about accepting that people do the best they can. Some people are strong, like you." He squeezed her. "But some aren't. People don't need to be forgiven for being human."

"Thank you for that, love, but I want to forgive them," she admitted.

"Maybe forgiving starts with something as simple as not hating them."

"I don't hate…" but she couldn't complete the lie. "They're my parents. They raised me and I'm grateful."

"So am I," he teased. This elicited a tiny giggle and slap of her hand to his chest.

"Be serious. What I mean is, I want to appreciate what they did right, not fixate on their mistakes. Only, I feel like when I remember them, the mistakes are all I can see."

"Then tell me something else; something good about your family."

"Like what?"

"How should I know? Tell me your favorite memory from when you were a girl before you knew about your father's drinking; before you lost your respect for your mother," Charles prompted.

Elsie cast her mind back into the swirling confusion of a child's memories. There were birthdays and Christmas', of course, but, though happy enough, they weren't her happiest moments. She recalled being happy, but nothing specific. Then she remembered it; the perfect day. It was a memory that had transcended mere recollection and had become more like a dream revisited than a past remembered. That day was enshrined in her heart as the definition of a happy family.

"You'll laugh," she said, shaking her head.

"I should hope so. It is meant to be a happy memory."

"But there isn't much to it. It's just a silly little thing, really."

"The best kind of happiness is made up of silly little things, I suspect."

His gentle patience convinced her to continue. "It must have been late summer or early autumn for the hillside above the farm was purple with heather. We were eating at an outside table as we often did in the summer, when the stove made the house too hot. While we were saying grace, a butterfly landed on the bread in the middle of the table. It was a lovely little creature and it just sat there. Its black wings with bits of orange and white moved like so." Elsie pulled her arm from under Charles and made a butterfly with her hands by linking her thumbs and facing the palms of her hands towards them both. She slowly closed and opened the wings her fingers formed.

"It's almost like it's breathing," Charles remarked.

"That's just what I thought. When my father was done with grace, I was afraid he'd shoo the butterfly off, but he didn't. He plucked a nearby weed that was flowering and brushed it under the butterfly. The wee thing fluttered for a bit and settled on the flower.

"We passed the butterfly around and looked at it, how the wings were different on top than below. Da' explained all about caterpillars and told me what a chrysalis was. He said that this one was young; you could tell it hadn't been out long because the black on the wings was so dark and the wings weren't tattered yet.

"I wanted to keep it, but he said it was best left free. He blew gently under the wings until the butterfly took off and flitted up towards the heather. I remember my mother laughing. I remember all of us laughing as it flew away."

"That's a beautiful memory, love," Charles kissed the butterfly her hands still formed then blew on them. She laughed and pretended that the butterfly had flown away. "When you want to remember your parents, think of that. Remember the laughter."

"I'll try," she promised. She turned over to face him with one hand pressed to his cheek. She looked into his face very seriously. "I'm very lucky to know you, Charles Carson."

He shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze. "Wha-? Don't be melodramatic." He tried to look away but she was captivating.

"I'm not, love. Even if I didn't fall in love with you the second we met, and I'm not entirely sure that I didn't, the whole course of my life changed for the better in that instant."

"There's no need to be sentimental, Mrs. Carson," he was blushing from her flattery.

"There's every need, Mr. Carson." She was not about to be put off by his modesty. "I need you to know how thankful I am to have you as my confidant, my helpmate, my lover and my husband. I will not brook any disagreement on the subject."

"In that case, I'll not argue with you, though I am sorely tempted," Charles surrendered to her will. "I will only say that I have been at least as lucky as you, if not more so. I am grateful to whatever forces of fate brought us both to Downton."

"As am I," she agreed in a low, smoky voice. Her lips were almost to his and her breath tickled him in a manner that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Her kiss was searing hot, like an iron branding him hers. When she drew back, Charles had the look of a man who had been struck on the head and could not remember his own name. Elsie laughed at her ability to paralyze her husband with a kiss, but he quickly recovered. Charles grabbed her and twisted them both so that she lay pinned beneath his chest.

"Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"I believe I was going to show you something and you were going to take advantage of me," she reminded him.

"Mmm. That sounds delightful," he purred. "Which shall we do first?"

"They are not mutually exclusive, Charles."

"Very well, both it is." He slipped his hand under the hem of her nightgown and began to pull it up.

"Wait!" She yelled suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

With a mighty scowl, Charles stopped removing her nightgown and looked towards the bedroom door. "What? I swear, if there is someone at our door, they can bloody well wait," he growled, but his confidence faltered. "But I didn't hear anything."

"No?" She looked at him, loving the adorably confused look on his face. His sense of duty ran so deep and she did so enjoy teasing him about it. "That's good, because neither did I."

Her guilty grin gave the game away. His eyes widened as he caught onto the joke. She began to laugh and he chuckled deeply.

"Oh, you are going to pay for that, my dear," he promised as he tore her nightgown over her head.

"Gladly."

TBC…


	64. Vultures

There were white tents on the lawn before Skelton Park but it wasn't a garden party. April was not the month for garden parties. Tables were set up beneath the tents strewn with the treasures of the house. Charles Carson stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the proceedings with disgust.

"If you are going to stand here and scowl, you're better off waiting in the van," Elsie suggested from her spot beside him.

"Doesn't this bother you?"

"It's just an estate sale, Charles. They happen all the time."

"Not to families that we know personally. The Skeltons may not be particular friends of the Crawleys, but they've been longtime acquaintances. I've served them dozens of times." Charles frowned. "Look at those vultures, picking through the carcass of a once great house. It took centuries to accumulate all those items and now they're to be sold off over a weekend? It's repulsive."

"The family is just simplifying; they aren't destitute. They are just closing up Skelton Park and staying in London. Anything of real value is being auctioned off in London," Elsie argued. "And must I remind you that I am one of those vultures of which you speak? We need serving dishes and utensils and chairs for the business. Sales like this are a great deal for us. It's lucky Anna told us about this one."

"I understand that, but I still don't like it."

"I know and I'm sorry you have to see this. If Colin could carry everything himself, we wouldn't have brought you at all. I'm starting to think it was a mistake."

Colin and Charles had driven the van from Hull and met May and Elsie at the York station. The cab had been a little cramped on the drive to Skelton Park, but Elsie hadn't minded having to ride on Charles' lap. They would spend the night at Downton before returning to Hull as they had arrived.

"Don't mind me," Charles grumbled. "Get back to your sale. You wouldn't want someone to poach your chaffing dish."

Elsie had a few choice words she could have unleashed, but she held back. She had anticipated that this would be a difficult thing for him to endure, but it seemed she had underestimated how it would affect him. When he looked over the picked over debris of a failed house, he saw what might have become of Downton and the family he loves; what still might become of them.

"You needn't take this so personally, love. The Skeltons will be just fine. They've moved to London and are living quite well. I doubt any of them even remember that the sale is happening today."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Charles disagreed. "Do you see that car over there?" He nodded towards the main house.

"It's a very nice. Did you want to buy it?"

"Very funny, love." He smiled bitterly. "It isn't for sale. Lady Skelton is in that car."

"How do you know?"

"I know the chauffeur and the car and I saw her hat."

"You see then, how can you feel sorry for someone who still has a car like that and a chauffeur?"

"How would you like to open up our house and know people are pawing through our things looking for a bargain?"

"I shouldn't like it, but we don't have much for people to paw through. We don't have a hoard accumulated over three centuries."

"But these aren't the things from that hoard. You said it yourself, the most valuable things will be auctioned off. These things are just the household items; chairs from the servant's hall, table linens and serviceable dishes. Yet she felt the need to come up from London to watch. It isn't about the things; it's about watching a household dissolve into nothing and seeing the evidence of its very existence cast into the wind."

"It's not as dire as all that."

"I doubt Lady Skelton would agree with you."

"She shouldn't have come to watch."

"But she couldn't be anywhere else. If something like this happened to Downton…"

"Nothing like this is going to happen to Downton," she assured him even though she had no basis for such an assertion.

"I hope you are right." He tore his gaze away from the car and returned to glaring at the common folk with their grubby hands touching the once meticulously cared for items. "Please buy what you need so we can leave this place."

"I wanted your opinion on a price for some china."

He looked at her as if she'd asked him to quote a price for someone's first born.

"Never mind, I've a good idea of what's fair. I just wanted to give you something to do. Go wait in the van. You'll be happier there."

"I doubt it."

"Well, you'll make other people less miserable at least," she snapped. She was about to pay out a large amount of the business' money for items they needed. It was an important day for her and he was acting like a petulant child. Elsie understood why it upset him, she really did, but she didn't have time to indulge him today.

"Fine," he gave up and slouched towards the parking area. "Send for me when you need help carrying your spoils."

"Daft," she muttered as she returned to May and Colin.

Two hours later the van was filled with chairs and dishes and table clothes. Elsie had negotiated a bulk price and was very happy with her triumph. She wished she could crow to Charles, but it would be rubbing salt in a wound. He'd been very helpful carrying things, but had not uttered a word all afternoon.

Charles drove the van to Downton, giving May the opportunity to ride on Colin's lap. Colin had told her about his misstep and she was not holding it against him. The two canoodled their way back to Downton entirely oblivious to Charles and Elsie riding in silence. Charles knew he should apologize for his behavior, but didn't feel like doing so with an audience. Elsie was ready to forgive him, but needed him to acknowledge his transgression first.

They pulled up beside the Downton cottage with a little lurch. Charles was still getting the hang of the clutch. The four tumbled out of the cab, thankful to at last stretch their legs. With the van separating the two couples, Charles took his opportunity.

"I'm sorry I was such a grouch today, love. Suzanne and Emily will be very impressed with what you've bought, and for a fraction of what you'd budgeted."

"It was wrong of me to ask you to come. Thank you for helping, despite your objections." Elsie gave him a kiss and all was forgotten.

"Colin and I can run into town after tea for whatever we need for supper."

"That won't be necessary," Elsie informed him. "Anna's cooking for us."

"She already has too much to do…" Charles protested.

"That's what I said, but she insisted," Elsie shrugged. "It's her half day and she wanted to do this. In fact, I should say, Anna is cooking for May and I. We'll be sleeping at the Bates cottage tonight. You boys will stay here."

Charles was stunned. "Is this because I was such a grump earlier?"

"No, it was already decided," Elsie laughingly assured him as she massaged his chest under his jacket. "You know I love my grumpy bear."

"Elsie!" Charles looked around to be sure Colin and May had not overheard. Thankfully, they were still admiring the front of the cottage. "You promised not to call me that in public."

"This is hardly public. If it were, would I do this?" She reached around and pinched his bottom.

"I'm honestly not sure anymore." He offered her a wry smile and a warm kiss. "What am I supposed to do with Colin?"

"And Mr. Bates." Elsie reminded him.

"I can hardly take them both down to the Grantham Arms." Charles was more than a little put out. "You are going to stay up all night gossiping with the girls while I'm stuck with the Yorkshire Temperance League."

Elsie could not help but laugh at that. "I believe Anna is preparing something for the three of you as well."

"And then what do we do?" Charles asked in a panic.

Before she could answer Anna came running up and hugged Elsie. "I saw you drive by," she hugged Charles. "Oh my, Mr. Carson, I couldn't believe when I saw it was you behind the wheel! Now I believe anything must be possible."

"I should probably be offended by that," Charles teased her with a paternal smile.

"But you won't be," Anna teased back and gave him a bonus kiss to the cheek.

Elsie could not remember the last time she'd seen Anna this effusive. If she hadn't already received a letter telling her that the London procedure had not 'taken', Elsie would have suspected otherwise. Such questions could wait.

"Come in, Anna, won't you join us for tea?"

"That's why I'm here." She linked arms with Elsie and they met Colin and May at the back of the truck on the way to the cottage door.

"Charles was just telling me how much he's looking forward to spending time with John this evening," Elsie lied. Anna understood.

"Yes, John was just saying the same this morning," Anna winked at Elsie. Though both their husbands were generous men, they were neither of them known for their sociability.

At least Charles had the good grace to accept their playful mockery. When no one else was looking, he gave his wife a quick pat on the behind as they followed their guests into the cottage.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ Next up, the girls gossip and the boys…sit and stare at each other.**

**We'll catch up with Banna and Coy.**


	65. Boys' and Girls' Night In

Charles sipped his coffee. He ruminated on the fact that he'd never wanted a drink so badly in all his life as he did at this moment while sitting with two recovering alcoholics. What did that say about him, he wondered?

Anna had made a lovely meal of chicken chowder and fresh bread. The three men had eaten cheerily enough, but by the time they'd split the last of the lemon custard pie she'd sent, there was an uncomfortable atmosphere pervading the room.

This was the time in the evening when each of the men thought of sitting with their wives alone beside the fire. Maybe they'd start with the pretense of reading a book or the paper, but there wouldn't be much reading done. Instead of being where they wanted to be, the three men stared at each other, slurped their dark coffee and listened to the eternity of silence between each tick of the clock.

They'd already cleared most of the dishes and washed up while the coffee percolated. Was it too early just to call it a night? Charles looked at the clock. It was eight forty. Charles decided he would turn in at nine. It would be a kindness to end the evening early.

"Nice weather today," Colin offered halfheartedly.

"Maybe we'll have an early spring," John added without even trying to feign interest.

They both looked at Charles. God, was he expected to participate in this inane conversation? "An early spring makes for a hot summer," he answered by rote. Where had he ever heard that? It didn't even make any sense. Why were they talking like farmer's almanacs?

Charles cast his eyes around for something, anything of interest to discuss. _Thank you, Elsie!_ He thought when he saw what she'd left on the mantle beside the matches.

"Could I interest you gentlemen in some cards?"

-00-

"…But Dr. Clarkson says that things have improved on Mr. Bates' side of things, so we are hopeful."

"I'm so glad you weren't too disappointed that the clinical procedure wasn't successful," Elsie patted Anna's hand.

"We knew it wasn't likely to be," Anna admitted. "But it was worth the chance. Really, it did some good because it showed that we are both committed to starting a family. It's encouraging to know we want the same thing. We've both relaxed more and trying is actually enjoyable again."

"It wasn't enjoyable?" Elsie could hardly believe that.

"Well, it wasn't _fun_," Anna clarified. "There's a difference."

"Speaking of which…" Elsie turned to her sister, taking the heat off of Anna and turning it onto May. "You were going to tell me about your 'fun' date last weekend."

May blushed but clamped her lips shut and shook her head. She was smiling like the cat that got the cream.

"Oh, Mrs. McAvoy, what have you been up to?" Anna teased.

"I'm a married woman. What my husband and I do is no one's business but our own."

Anna laughed, but Elsie was suddenly very serious. She wanted to ask May if this meant that Colin would be moving in with her soon, but she didn't want to put her on the spot in front of Anna. Elsie worried that her sister was moving too quickly. There was a knock on the door.

"Oh! That will be Mrs. Patmore and Daisy. They promised to come and judge my pie." Anna jumped up and answered the door.

May took the chance to grab Elsie's hand. "Later," she promised. Elsie smiled at her. It reminded her of when they were girls and one word between them could speak volumes.

"Well, I don't smell smoke, so that's a good start!" Beryl declared in her jolliest authoritarian tone.

-00-

Tension crackled in the air. Charles' eyebrows peeked over the top of his cards as he assessed his foes. His hand was steady as he reached for the stakes in front of him, choosing his bet.

"Eight pence." Charles dropped four match sticks into the middle of the table. He lifted an eyebrow at the other two gentlemen, daring them to try him.

"Too rich for me," Colin chuckled and folded immediately. The limit was ten pence, so eight was quite daring, especially for Charles. It was the biggest raise Charles had attempted all night.

Charles turned his steely gaze to John who just started laughing.

"What?"

"Mr. Carson, please promise me you will never gamble in anything but penny ante games," Bates smirked. "I fold."

"What?" Charles demanded again, honestly perplexed.

"You can't just play your strong hands," John explained. "You have to try bluffing every now and then, or we'll always know what you have by what you bet."

"You don't know that I wasn't bluffing," Charles said defensively.

"If you have anything less than two pair, I'll eat my hat."

"Full house," Charles confirmed and swept the small pile of matchsticks from the center of the table to the add to the pile in front of him.

"What's wrong with how I play?" Charles asked. Looking at the distribution of matchsticks between the three of them, he seemed to be ahead. "Aren't I winning?"

"At a real table, with real stakes, you'd be picked clean."

Colin nodded his agreement.

"You've no place to criticize, Colin. You don't have enough left to start a fire." Charles pointed at the half a matchstick that represented Colin's last ante. "That's what bluffing gets you."

"If we made this no limits, I'd have all your matches in five hands," Bates boasted.

"You're on," Charles challenged. He gathered the cards and began shuffling, never taking his eyes off the smirking Mr. Bates.

-00-

"Bless me, Daisy, what a thing to say!" Beryl exclaimed. "Mr. Mason is not frisking about my skirts!"

Two glasses of port had made Daisy bold and verbose. "He's redecorated the guest room just for your visit."

"I'm sure he's done that for you," Beryl protested.

"My room didn't get new curtains and a matching comforter set," Daisy teased. "And I'm moving in for good."

"You're definitely leaving then?" Elsie asked. Last she'd heard Daisy was still waffling between leaving Downton and staying on.

"I don't know. I want to learn about the farm, but I don't want to leave Downton." She looked close to tears. "Mr. Mason's been ever so patient, but what if I leave service and I find that I'm too stupid to run a farm?"

"You aren't stupid, silly girl," Beryl put an arm around they young woman. "No matter what I say when I'm angry, you are the brightest young woman that I know."

"Really?"

"If you weren't, I'd have told you so and cut you loose years ago. I've trained you because I believe in you," Beryl reassured her.

Daisy burst into tears, "I don't want to leave you, but how can I stay? Mr. Mason says Downton won't need a cook like me in ten years' time."

"He's probably right," Anna whispered to Elsie and May.

"And he's offering me a chance to be something."

"You are something, Daisy, whether you stay or go," Beryl reminded her. "We'll go stay with him while the family are away. You can see what you think about running a farm. I'll be there to help you. Neither Mr. Mason or I want to force you into something that makes you uncomfortable."

"He is ever so kind," Daisy sniffed. "Don't you think so?"

"He's the kindest of men," Beryl agreed.

"Then why won't you marry him?" Daisy asked expectantly. She had a sly smile on her face that Elsie thought was decidedly un-Daisy like.

"Get away with you, you dozy girl!" Beryl laughed and pushed Daisy away gently. "You make your decisions and leave me to make mine!"

"More port?" Anna chimed in.

"Why not?" Beryl held out her glass. "But no more for Daisy."

"I thought I was making my own decisions," Daisy protested.

"And who do you suppose will have to pick up the slack for you tomorrow when you are too sick to work?"

Without skipping a beat, Daisy answered, "Ivy."

Laughter filled the room, with Beryl's happy cackle the loudest of all.

TBC...

* * *

**AN/ Sorry I didn't post yesterday. I am sooo busy all of a sudden. I'll try to get back to the boys very soon.**


	66. Truth or Dare

It was their third hand since going no limit. Charles had folded the first two hands as soon as John had bet. It was Charles' turn to lead the betting. His face was impassive and unreadable. John was just as stone-faced. He'd learned something about bluffing when he was in the army, but he'd learned even more in prison. Colin watched them both in reverent silence.

Charles placed his hand over the pile of matches in front of him. He pushed them all in. John folded at once.

"I give you the opportunity to beat me, to prove your point, and you won't play?" Charles was more than a little put out.

"You obviously have a good hand. You've put everything in, there's no way I can buy the pot from you now, whatever my hand." John shrugged.

"Maybe I was bluffing."

"You weren't. Were you?" John reached for Charles' cards. "What did you have?"

"You have to pay to see." Charles quickly picked up his cards and John's and shuffled them back into the deck.

"I might have underestimated how long it would take to beat you," Bates admitted as Charles dealt the next hand.

"Just admit that I'm right. You can't lose what you don't risk." Charles gave Bates two cards to replace his discards before taking one for himself.

"But my point is that you can't win _big_. Big risks are necessary for big rewards." Bates considered his hand and dropped five match sticks into the pot.

"But when I gave you an opening, you didn't take it," Charles reminded him. "Why not?"

"I didn't have the cards to challenge you."

"Do you now?" Charles shoved all his matches to the middle.

"No," John folded.

"I don't buy that about big risk equaling big rewards. In my experience, big risks lead to big loses."

"But you can't just play it safe all the time."

"Those are bold words for a man who has passed up the chance to take that big risk."

"Are we still talking about cards?" John asked.

"I don't know, are we?" Charles shrugged.

"What do you mean?"

"Why don't you want to take over the Grantham Arms," Charles asked suddenly. John was caught unawares by the direct question.

"I do, we discussed it."

"Yes, we discussed it almost two months ago and then…nothing."

"You are going to run a public house?" Colin jumped into the conversation. "But I thought…"

"That I was a drunk?" John finished. There had been a quick acknowledgement of both Colin and John's past when Charles had served water with dinner. "I was, but I've tended bar since giving up drinking. It wasn't so bad. I can handle it."

"That gives me hope," Colin confessed.

"If that isn't the reason you don't want to move forward with purchasing the Arms, what is?" Charles pressed.

"I think Anna and I should be sure that there is a child on the way before making such a big leap."

"That shouldn't matter. If you decided to have a child, you need to commit to making it happen."

"What do you think we've been doing?" Bates raised his voice defensively. "You know about London, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, but beyond a week in London, what have you been doing to prepare to have a family?"

"What should I be doing?"

"Have you even mentioned that you are trying for a child to Robert?"

"Yes, of course."

"Does he know that you intend to leave service when you become a father?"

"No, I don't think that occurred to him," Bates squirmed under such intense questioning. "Why does it matter to you?"

"Because Anna matters to me," Charles declared. "And I don't want to see her hurt when you change your mind and won't leave Downton when the time comes."

"I won't change my mind," John insisted.

"I want to believe you, but I know how hard it is to leave a life where you feel safe for something new and frightening." Charles' voice was gentle and sympathetic. "I wish I'd had the courage to leave sooner. I'm just trying to help you avoid the mistake that I made of waiting too long."

"With all due respect, Mr. Carson, this is a matter between Anna and me. Your opinions are valued, but the decision is ours." John grabbed up the cards and started shuffling furiously. Charles backed off for the time being.

-00-

It was late, but the lamps were still lit at the Bates residence. The port was long gone. Beryl had produced a bottle of brandy from her bag and the women continued their mirthful night. Daisy was asleep on the couch but the other ladies were still drinking and laughing.

"That's too much, Beryl," Elsie protested as her glass was filled again.

"Too late," the red faced cook laughed.

"Alright, but I'll only drink half of it," Elsie declared. Her eyes were droopy and her smile goofy as she winked at May and Anna. "The bottom half!"

"I never thought I'd hear such talk from Elsie Hughes."

"That's Elsie _Carson_," Elsie reminded her friend.

"Maybe that's what's different about you."

"Marriage is transformative, Beryl. You really should give it a try," Elsie teased.

"You are a one note song tonight," Beryl slurred. "But you haven't convinced me."

"That's Mr. Mason' job," Elsie winked.

"You could make his job easier."

"How?"

"Tell me how Charles convinced you," Beryl challenged. "Or better yet, how he _continues _to convince you."

"What are you asking, Beryl?"

"I think," May jumped in. "She wants you to tell us how Charles is in bed."

Elsie gaped at her sister and best friend as the two giggled madly. Anna suddenly decided it was time to do the dishes and rushed off to the kitchen. "I will not discuss the private matters of my marriage with the likes of you."

"Aw, come on, Els. Tell us about your _grumpy bear_," May teased.

"May! Where did you hear that?"

"I might have overheard you and Charles earlier today. 'You know I love my grumpy bear.'"

"Oh, is that a new nickname for Charles?" Beryl asked enthusiastically. "I can't wait to use it."

"Beryl, you can't! He'll be mortified." Elsie's heart was racing with fear.

"All the better," Beryl winked at May. She had no intention of humiliating her friends like that. Even Beryl Patmore knew there was a line that should not be crossed.

"Please, Beryl, May, you have to promise never to call him that. He'll be so embarrassed and he'll think that I told you!"

"I suppose we could be convinced to stay quiet," May began nonchalantly. "But, we'd need other information in return."

"Like what?"

"What's his favorite position?" May asked wickedly. Elsie slapped her arm.

"Position for what?" Beryl wondered. This caused the two Hughes sisters to almost fall apart with laughter.

"Oh. Ohhhh! Goodness!" Beryl was scandalized but intrigued. "Well?"

"I will not tell you two harpies that!"

"But he does have one, doesn't he?" May insisted.

Elsie blushed and nodded.

"That's a start," May said excitedly. "What else shall we ask her?"

"Nothing leaves this room?" Elsie said sternly.

"We promise!" May crossed her heart and held her hand up in pledge. Beryl repeated the actions.

"Very well. Ask your questions." Despite herself, Elsie was enjoying this. Even if she couldn't admit it out loud, Elsie was happy for the opportunity to brag about her man.

"How often?" Beryl wanted very much to know.

"Per night or per week?" Elsie asked naughtily.

"Good Lord, you're like rabbits, aren't you?" May laughed. "Eager, newlywed rabbits!"

"Wrong animal," Elsie laughed. "I told him he's a horny, old goat!"

Unfortunately, Anna had chosen that moment to stick her head back into the sitting room to offer coffee. She stood frozen in the doorway with the pot and a horrified look on her face.

"We're upsetting Anna," Elsie jumped up to usher the poor girl to a seat.

"Nonsense, she should be glad to know you and Charles are so happy," May gushed.

"I…I am," Anna stuttered. "It's just…I've never heard people talk about this before; not this openly. Lady Mary makes the odd snide comment, but people don't talk about this sort of thing. Do they?"

"It depends on how drunk they are," Elsie gave Beryl and May a meaningful look.

"What do you think the men are talking about?" May asked.

"Considering they are as sober as judges, they probably discussed the weather and are already fast asleep," Elsie speculated. She hoped Charles had seen the cards she left out. It would be nice if the men had at least played a few hands of cards, but she suspected they'd still called it an early night.

"Let's go wake them up!" May suggested.

"What?" Anna gasped.

"Yes!" Beryl yelled enthusiastically. "We'll go over there and give them a scare. It will be fun! Daisy! Wake up!" She shook the girl mercilessly until she blinked awake.

"I'm not sure…" Elsie tried to calm May and Beryl down.

"Don't you want to tell your grumpy bear goodnight?" May teased.

"If I could tell him anything right now, it would be to run," Elsie whispered to Anna as Beryl and May pushed a confused Daisy into her coat. "Come on, we had better keep an eye on them."

"Who's this grumpy bear?" Daisy did not want to run into a bear of any kind.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ I'm not entirely sure where this is going. Suggestions are welcome.**


	67. An Eventful Night

Charles and John had played hand after hand of poker. Slowly, but surely, Charles was taking all of John's matches. It was clear that John's thoughts were not solely on the game at hand. Mr. Carson's words had made him think. The idea of leaving Lord Grantham did scare John, he had to admit it. The best years of his life had been spent working for Robert. After the war, Robert had offered John the opportunity to join him to Downton after his convalescence, but John had turned it down to remain in the Army. He had hopes of marrying and having a family. That had not turned out very well.

Being accepted at Downton to work for Robert again had been the turning point of John's life. It was a new start after his prison sentence. It was where he had met his dear, sweet Anna. He'd been torn forcefully away by Vera's blackmail and then, again, by her vengeful suicide. Leaving was not something he felt confident about. John had to admit he was afraid to leave his job at Downton.

The clock struck eleven and John knew it was time to give up.

"It's late. Let's call it a night. You win, Mr. Carson. Just tell me; were you bluffing ever?"

"You've said that I can't bluff," Charles reminded him.

"But did you?" John asked insistently.

"Let's have one last hand," Charles insisted. "And make it interesting."

"How?"

"You tell me your hand and I'll tell you that I have a better hand."

"Even if you don't?"

"Even if I don't. If you can tell whether I am telling the truth or not, you win."

John considered the game. "I just have to say whether or not you're bluffing?"

"It's that easy," Charles smiled. "But we won't play for matches."

"What stakes to you propose?"

"If you are correct, Elsie and I will lend you the money for the Grantham Arms purchase whenever you and Anna choose. The timing is completely up to you. The money will come without interest for ten years and you don't have to make any payments for the first year."

"That's very kind of you," John said. "And if I'm wrong?"

"You talk to Anna and decide once and for all if you want to ever run the Grantham Arms. If you decide that the answer is yes, you have to speak to Lord Grantham this week about your long term plans and a timeline for your leaving must be established. No more putting it off."

"And you and Mrs. Carson will still help us purchase the Arms?"

"Yes; with interest, but the first year will still be mortgage free to help you get established."

"I can't accept that bet," Mr. Bates protested.

"Why not?"

"We can't possibly accept such generosity."

"Consider it a dowry."

"Dowry?"

Charles blushed a little as he explained. "I know Elsie considers Anna as she would a daughter. That makes Anna the closest thing Mrs. Carson and I will ever have to a daughter of our own. Let us help her. Let us help you both."

"Deal the cards." John shoved the deck at Colin who had been watching the men with his eyes wide with wonder. Colin shuffled and dealt.

Silently, both men looked at the hand they were dealt. John took two fresh cards and Charles took two as well. John watched Charles' face very closely as he turned over his own cards.

"Four of a kind; threes with a jack."

Charles looked down at Mr. Bates' hand and then looked back at his own. He lay them calmly face down and dead panned,"I've got you beat." John scrutinized the stoic face and the puckish eyes. He'd always thought Mr. Carson was an open book, but now he wondered. There was something more mischievous in those eyes than he'd ever noticed before.

John realized that he'd been tricked. This wasn't about bluffing at all. This was about forcing his hand; making him decide. No matter what the outcome, he would have to talk frankly to Anna about their future. He had the option to say no to taking over the pub, but he would have to explain it to Anna to whom the idea was a carrot that kept her moving forward. This wasn't about deciding if Charles was bluffing or not. This was about making John consider what he really wanted. Charles was essentially telling John to 'fish or cut bait'. John realized that he had needed this push. Things would not be status quo once the child came; if a child came. Regardless, things could not remain as they were.

"You are not bluffing," John declared, confident that Mr. Carson really could not lie to save his life.

Charles' expression did not change as he turned over his hand one card at a time; seven of hearts, eight of heart, nine of hearts, ten of hearts…queen of spades.

"Ha!" Colin called out and clapped his knee. "Charles Carson bluffed!"

John admitted his defeat with a wry smile. "Well played, Mr. Carson."

John gathered the cards and slipped them back into the pack. Charles swept the matches into the box. He tossed the few half sticks into the fireplace where they flared up and then disappeared.

"Well, that was exciting, but it's time to get some sleep, I think," Charles said with finality. "Mr. Bates, I believe your wife sent your things over for you. They are in the guest room. The couch is yours, Colin." He magicked a pillow and blanket from the corner of the room.

John and Charles climbed the stairs one after the other.

"You know I won't hold you to the bet," Charles said kindly. "Just make your choice, Mr. Bates, and know your friends will support you; Mrs. Carson and I most especially."

"Thank you, but you were right. It's time for me to take a little risk for the good of my family," John admitted.

"I'm glad to hear you say that. Good night, lad."

"Good night, Mr. Carson."

-00-

The five women moved in drunken stealth in the lane outside the Carson's cottage. In between the dark shadows cast by the cottages the night was lightly illuminated by a nearly full moon. This light fell on two figures cloaked in their coats and three wearing nightgowns and robes.

"Shhh!" Beryl hissed in a voice that carried to Ripon. "Dozy girl!"

"But I don't understand what we're doing," Daisy protested. She wasn't sure how she'd come to be wearing a strap of cowbells across her chest.

"It's a good thing we don't have any neighbors," Elsie moaned. She and Anna were hanging back from the other three women. They both knew that the men were not likely to appreciate the little joke Beryl had in mind, but stopping the cook once she had the bit between her teeth was impossible. "Just don't wake up the whole Abbey!"

Elsie thought it was a minor miracle that they hadn't already awoken all of the North Riding.

"Which are the bedroom windows, Elsie?" Beryl inquired as she stooped to pick up a handful of gravel.

"Beryl, don't you dare," Elsie began, but Beryl had already flung the small stones at the side of the house.

"Now!"

Daisy began to run around, causing the cowbells to clatter in a terrible racket. May began to beat the pot she'd brought with a heavy spoon.

Crashing sounds and cursing came from inside the house and Elsie thought for one terrible moment that it must be Charles falling down the stairs and breaking his neck. The door burst open and Charles came stumbling out into the cold night wearing only his pajama bottoms and swinging an umbrella that popped open on the second swing. Daisy had to duck and run to avoid being caught in the arc of the bumbershoot.

Beryl had collapsed onto the ground in a fit of laughter. Charles towered over her, his chest heaving as the adrenaline still coursed through him and he took in the situation.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" Charles demanded. A light snapped on in the cottage and a beam of electric light streamed out onto the scene in front of the house. It cast Charles' shadow across the lane and made him seem like a giant. Colin and John stood in the doorway. Colin was holding the fireplace poker and John was holding the tea kettle. They were both wearing full pajamas.

May rushed forward and pulled Beryl a safe distance away from Charles before the two drunk women collapsed in fits of hysteria. Elsie thought she heard the word 'bear' through their laughter, but thankfully, Charles did not appear to hear it.

"Elsie?" He blinked at her. The look on his face showed that he was not entirely sure this wasn't some strange sort of nightmare.

"We couldn't stop them, Charles, I'm so sorry," Elsie apologized, but was barely able to keep a straight face. He looked ridiculous standing bare-chested holding an open umbrella limply in his hand with his hair standing up in the back from his pillow. To her, he looked ridiculous, but beautiful.

"You've had your fun, Beryl. Now back to Downton with you," Elsie commanded. Technically, it was Anna's place to send the cook back to the house, but Anna looked too shocked to say anything. She had no idea that people carried on like this and she didn't know how to handle it.

"You're no fun, Elsie," Beryl pouted. She and May pulled each other to their feet.

"I don't think it's going to rain, Charles," Elsie said gently as she approached him. He looked down and realized what he was holding.

"You ladies have been enjoying yourselves, I take it?" He closed up the umbrella with a huff.

"We were, until _some_ of us got carried away," Elsie glared at Beryl.

"Daisy? I'm surprised at _you_," Charles growled.

"I…"

"You know you don't _have_ to do everything Mrs. Patmore tells you to do, don't you?" His tone was a little gentler already. The initial shock was wearing off and he knew Daisy wasn't to blame for any of these shenanigans.

"Yes, Mr. Carson."

"Good. There needs to be at least _one_ adult in the kitchens." He glowered at Beryl whose jovial mood was not in the least affected by his blustering.

"You don't scare me Charles Carson," Beryl said defiantly.

"We wanted to show Beryl what she was missing by turning down Mr. Mason," May explained, completely unaware of the connotation that phrase had between Charles and Elsie.

Beryl gave Charles a cheeky grin. Charles suddenly realized that he was half naked and covered himself ineffectively with the umbrella and his crossed arms. Elsie motioned to Mr. Bates, who understood and took Mr. Carson's coat from beside the door and handed it to Elsie. She handed him the coat and took the umbrella. Charles buttoned up his coat quickly and seemed to regain some of his dignity in the process.

"Since you ladies are done for the evening, perhaps we might turn in," Charles took on his best authoritative voice. "Daisy, will you please help Mrs. Patmore back to the house?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson," Daisy answered and scurried towards Beryl, who shook her off.

"I don't need your help," she insisted though she staggered a bit when she said it.

Elsie lay a hand on Charles' arm to calm him. Beryl saw the way his expression changed. It wasn't just a taming touch; it was a sensuous caress. Elsie Hughes had always been able to calm the butler when he was raging, but this was something different; something even more intimate than anything Beryl had yet witnessed between her two friends. She'd never thought of them in _that way_ before. She'd made jokes, but this wasn't something one would find amusing. It was tender and it made her wonder_, Maybe there's something to this marriage business._

"Are you drunk as well?" Beryl overheard Charles ask Elsie quietly.

"Just a little tipsy," she whispered back as she petted his wild hair lovingly. One hand found its way naturally to his chest, part of which was still visible beneath the hastily buttoned coat. Beryl saw Elsie's fingers curl possessively into the silver fur. The other hand now traced small, soothing circles on Charles' back.

Beryl smiled at her affectionate friends but then she looked away quickly so as not to impose on this personal moment and found herself looking at a very cozy Mr. and Mrs. Bates. They were doing some whispering and caressing of their own.

"If there is no objection, I should like to take my wife home. I don't want her out in this cold, night air." John smiled protectively down on Anna as he spoke. She beamed adoringly up at him. No one objected so the pair hurried off towards home.

Something stirred inside Beryl. She didn't need a man, she told herself, but what was she denying herself if she didn't at least explore her relationship with Mr. Mason? _And it will make Daisy happy,_ Beryl thought. Daisy was currently trying to shepherd the decidedly drunken cook towards the house. Beryl let herself be led away with a silly grin on her face. Yes, she would consider Mr. Mason in a new light tomorrow, but tonight, she would dream of the broad, hirsute chest of Rudolph Valentino.

"May, that means our guest room is all yours," Elsie declared. "Colin may remain on the couch."

"He doesn't _have_ to stay on the couch," May slurred lustily at Colin. She was leaning heavily on his arm.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Don't take this the wrong way, but you smell like a distillery," Colin told her, trying to be gentle.

"Is there a right way to take such an assessment?" May countered angrily.

"It's just that I don't think I can…It's asking too much of me at this point, I'm afraid."

May was wounded by his words and pushed drunkenly away from him. She couldn't believe he was rejecting her. "I hope you aren't judging me, Colin Tavis McAvoy! How many nights have you come home worse than this and I took you in without a word of how you stunk of gin or ale?"

"May, I'm not judging you. I'm glad you had a fun night with the girls, but it's not the same for me," Colin struggled to explain. "I think you smell heavenly. That's the problem; it makes me want a drink something terrible."

"Well then, enjoy your couch," May spat bitterly and marched into the cottage. She threw down the pot and spoon she'd brought from the Bates' and hurried upstairs before the tears started.

"I'd best go to her," Elsie sighed. "She'll understand when she's had time to think about it, Colin. You did a very difficult thing just now; good on you."

"Thank you for saying that, Elsie, but she has a point," Colin said sadly. He worried that this setback would undo all the progress they'd made in Hull. He wanted to be with his wife, of course he did, but all he could think of was how the brandy on her breath would taste when he kissed her. He knew that little taste would not be enough.

"You can both be right," Elsie patted his arm before following her sister up to the guest room.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ May and Elsie have their heart to heart next chapter. **

**Mr. and Mrs. Bates may just be off making little baby Bates right now... we'll leave them to it.**

**I hope you enjoyed the awakening of the grumpy bear.**


	68. Sister Talk

"May?" Elsie knocked on the door to the guest room. The door was unlocked, so Elsie pushed in. May was sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up in front of her. Elsie sat down facing her and mimicked her posture so their knees were even and almost touching. It reminded Elsie of when they would huddle together in their room and talk as they tried to ignore the sounds of their parents fighting downstairs. "Are you alright, deary?"

"Where does he come off turning me away for being drunk?" May sniffed angrily. "That is the height of hypocrisy! He's the bloody drunkard!"

"He's trying to do the right thing, May. For you and for himself. Or would you rather he got drunk with you?"

May considered this. "No." She shook her head. "No, but I want to be able to have a drink now and then and still…_be_ with my husband. He's the one with the problem; not me."

"But you're married. It's your problem too."

"What would you know about it? You've married for two weeks." Her words were harsher than her tone. There was not much fight in her voice.

"We've been married almost four months," Elsie corrected her. "But I see your point. I didn't mean to be preachy. I'm concerned about you, May."

"I'll be fine, Els, don't worry about me. Off with you now, your husband is waiting for you, I've no doubt. At least your husband wants to be with you."

"Charles can continue to wait. You have to know that Colin would rather be up here than on the couch."

"I'm not so sure."

"Tell me, May, before tonight, how were things between you and Colin?"

"Things were wonderful. He's happy. I'm happy. He listens to me. We laugh together. Do you know how long it's been since I've heard him laugh? It's been like before we were married."

"Except now, you want to sleep with him," Elsie joked.

May shrugged noncommittally and pursed her lips in a gesture Elsie recognized as May's 'guilty face'.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"We didn't exactly wait until we were married."

"What? When? You told me…"

"I lied. I didn't want you to think ill of Colin." May patted the bed beside her and Elsie swung around to sit beside her big sister. "In a way, it happened because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Sometimes I wish I'd gone with you when you left," May sighed. "I wanted to. Did you know that?"

"No."

"I told Colin I wanted to try a life in service, just for a little while, just so I could say I'd lived my own life before returning to be a farmer's wife."

Elsie nodded. It sounded like what she'd told Joe. "What did Colin say when you told him you were leaving?"

"He begged me not to go. He said I'd forget about him. I swore I'd return to marry him, but the only way he'd believe me was if we'd already been together as man and wife. He knew me well enough to know I'd consider us married after that."

"And you slept with him so he would let you leave?"

"Yes."

"But you never left."

"We were having too much fun," May giggled tipsily as she remembered. "Every time I threatened to leave he and I would make out like bandits in the hay loft. We'd lay there and promise each other we'd never be like our parents. Do you remember Colin's father?"

"I can't say that I do," Elsie admitted. "I remember his sisters were very quiet in school."

"Mr. McAvoy was cruel; violent. It's a wonder that Colin is so gentle, really. It's one of the reasons I was drawn to him." May lay her head on Elsie's shoulder dreamily. "Being together was exciting and safe at the same time. With each romp I thought less and less about going away. He was insatiable back then, but so was I. Like you and Charles now," May teased.

"We're not…"

"Don't bother denying it. I see how you are together and I'm that happy for you, I really am. I should probably be jealous, but you both make that impossible."

"How do we manage that?"

"By being so generous. The happier you are, the more good you do for those around you." May gave Elsie a sloppy kiss to the cheek. "You've given Colin and me so much, Elsie."

"Get away with you," Elsie laughed.

"No, I mean it. I never understood what you meant when you talked about your feeling of accomplishment in your career, but now I do. It's so new to me, to be valued for myself instead of being pitied for my husband." May took and held Elsie's hands. "I know Colin feels the same way. He's enjoying his little victories. We've talked about it; about how good it feels to have a skill and to be productive."

"You've always been productive," Elsie tried to point out.

"But Colin hasn't been. I couldn't fully enjoy my own accomplishments because I felt badly for him and he felt guilty for living off my labor. His summer jobs barely paid for his drinks. It does my heart good to see him so proud of his job at the garage."

"He used his wages to take you on the date you were going to tell me about," Elsie tried to nudge May's mind into happier territory. "I take it the date was satisfactory?"

"We saw a movie and went to lunch and I asked him in for some coffee…"

"Meaning the two of you…?"

"Twice," May giggled guiltily. "And he's visited a few times this week. It's early days yet, but we're enjoying the courtship."

"That sounds like more than courtship."

"We are married, Elsie, and we've every right to be together, but he never stays overnight."

"Do you never feel lonely? You're not used to sleeping alone."

"I'm used to waking up alone in bed in the middle of the night. At least now, I don't worry that he's somewhere dead in a gutter." May smiled bitterly. "Sleeping alone isn't so terrible. You did it for a very long time, even after you knew you were in love with Charles. Did you spend every night pining away for him?"

Elsie thought about it. "Not every night. Usually, I was too exhausted to be bothered about it. More often than not, if I did think of him, I thought of something he'd said that day or how I might tease him the next day. I usually fell asleep smiling."

"Exactly. I lie there alone and think about everything I've accomplished in the day and everything I'll accomplish tomorrow. Colin is part of that, but not all. My life is expanding, Elsie, and I have you to thank for that; you and Charles."

"Do you think he'll expect to move in soon?"

"We haven't discussed it. I'm enjoying having my own space. I've never lived on my own before. I feel like I'm meeting myself for the first time. I don't know if I'm ready to give that up yet."

Elsie looked deeply into her sister's eyes and said very seriously, "Don't you dare give it up before you're ready, May. Promise me that."

"I promise, moppet." May tapped Elsie lovingly on the nose. "Don't worry about me."

"I'll always worry about you, May, but I'll try not to be too obvious about it."

"I can't ask for anything more." May yawned. "I guess I'll turn in and let you get back to your bear. We riled him up right proper, didn't we?"

"I'm sure he's settled down by now," Elsie hugged her sister tightly before hopping off the bed. "Sleep tight, Maisy May. You'll have a bit of a headache tomorrow. There's headache powder in the bathroom."

"I think I'm going to have to apologize to Colin tomorrow."

"He'll understand. I think you've a long way to go before he has any right to be upset with you." Elsie flicked the switch by the door but paused before leaving.

"Is there something else, moppet?"

"Our childhood wasn't all bad, was it, May?"

"Of course not, Els."

"Do you remember that summer day when Da' told us all about butterflies?"

"Vaguely," came the sleepy reply.

"What's your favorite memory of Mum and Da?"

May barely had to think about it. "The day you were born. After Aunt Bessie and the midwife left, the four of us cuddled up on the bed together. They were both so happy and proud. So was I."

Elsie nodded. "Thank you, May. Good night."

"G'night, Els."

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ TBC very soon, I hope. Sorry for the delay, but I had a hard time with May's voice in this one. I think I got there in the end;)**

**Thoughts?**


	69. A Strong Position

**AN/ Warning: This is an 'M'ish chapter.**

* * *

Elsie tiptoed into what she could only think of as the bear cave. She closed the door almost silently behind her. A low growl came from the direction of the sleeping bear. Elsie giggled at the silly imagery in her head. The effects of the night's libations had not completely dissipated. Besides which, her talk with May had lightened her heart and she was feeling giddy.

"I wasn't sure I'd see you tonight," Charles grunted sleepily as Elsie slid into bed beside him. He accepted her eagerly into his arms. "How's May?"

"She may regret a few things tomorrow but things will look better in the morning. She's sleeping now." Elsie tried to burrow even deeper into his embrace. Charles suspected she was more than a little tipsy still. "How was your night with the boys?"

"You mean _before _we were attacked by a pack of madwomen?"

"You handled it well. It's good to know that you're so prepared to defend our home…against light precipitation," Elsie laughed. "I think you may have scared Daisy."

"She scared me," Charles countered a little defensively. "I nearly fell down the stairs."

"I'm glad you didn't," she murmured into his warm body.

"Me too," he sighed, enjoying how her hot breath stirred the hair on his chest. "Oh, you'll be glad to hear that Mr. Bates and I had a little chat about the Grantham Arms. I think he and Anna will make a decision on that very soon."

Elsie sat up and smiled at him in admiration. "I can't believe you got him to talk to you!"

"You asked me to speak to him about it," he reminded her.

"Yes, and I hoped you would, but I never thought he'd actually respond. How did you do it?"

"Mr. Bates and I are closer than you realize."

"Which explains why you call him Mr. Bates," she chuckled.

"We both appreciate formality. It's one of the things we have in common." Charles said seriously, but then broke into a proud smile. Elsie lay her head back on his chest. "Dare I ask what you and the girls discussed? Aside from invasion tactics, I mean."

"Just silly things, really."

"Did I hear Beryl say something about a grumpy bear?"

Elsie bit her lip in worry. Would he be upset with her? "May overheard us earlier and she told Beryl. I'm sure they'll both forget it by morning. They're a bit drunk, you know. "

"I noticed."

"It could have been worse. They were asking me all kinds of personal things, but I didn't answer."

"What kind of things?" Charles wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Can you believe they wanted to know your favorite position?"

Elsie braced for the indignant response, but Charles surprised her by merely asking calmy, "Did you tell them?"

"Of course not!"

"I wouldn't have minded, you know."

"You wouldn't have?" Elsie was skeptical. Maybe he was still half asleep and didn't understand, she thought.

"I'm flattered that you would even notice."

"You are?"

"I didn't think you'd know my favorite position."

"I'm not confident that I do know. I've narrowed it down…"

"I'd have thought it was obvious!"

"Well, you seem to enjoy them all."

"I do, but I much prefer Bowler."

Elsie sat up again and looked at him incredulously. "Bowler?"

"Well, I used to be a dab hand at Keeper, but it's too hard on my knees now. When I could still run, I rather enjoyed Long On or Mid On." He smiled as he thought back on his glory days of tracking down a long shot on the pitch.

Elsie could not believe her ears. "You think we got drunk and sat around talking about _cricket?_"

"What other positions could you mean?"

Instead of answering verbally, Elsie moved to sit across his lap facing her perplexed husband. When she was over him, she ground herself down against him suggestively.

"Are you trying to distract me?" Charles groaned and grasped her hips. "Because it's working."

Exasperated, Elsie climbed off him and cuddled up with her back to him. He rolled over instinctively and spooned her body. She wiggled back into him. "This is a 'position', Charles."

The truth dawned on him. He pushed up on an elbow to look down at her. "Elsie Hughes Carson! I didn't think respectable women discussed such things."

"After the amount of brandy we drank, there weren't any respectable women left in that cottage. Except maybe Anna."

"You've corrupted little Daisy even?" Charles accused jokingly.

"She was asleep. I think," Elsie said. "Besides, I didn't tell them anything."

"Because you're not sure you know which I prefer?"

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't have told."

"Would you like to guess my favorite?"

"I know you like this one." She pulled his arm around her tightly and thrilling as his hand naturally slid from her stomach down to her thigh.

"Yes, I do. There's a particular closeness offered by this configuration, but I think you're even fonder of it than I am," Charles purred.

"I do love the way you surround me," she admitted.

He gathered the material of her nightgown in his hand and bunched it up until he felt her skin against the back of his knuckles. "Perhaps this is your favorite position, Elsie, so you're hopeful that it's mine."

"But it isn't?"

"Do you know, I'm not sure? It's definitely near the top of the list. Maybe I need to be reminded of a few of my options before making a final decision," he challenged playfully.

She rolled towards him and he moved over her and between her open thighs. "You're such a traditionalist, it might be this one."

"It might be. There's bound to be a reason we find ourselves like this so often," he smirked. "But there's something wrong…ah!" He pulled her nightgown up over her head.

"Much better," Charles declared. "I'll admit, I am rather conservative, but you must admit, this position does have several variations that we both enjoy," Charles slid down and ran his tongue around the indentation of her bellybutton to make his point. He fiddled with his bottoms and removed pajamas and shorts in one efficient motion that brought him back face to face with her.

"Any other candidates you'd like to revisit?" Elsie offered, half the words spoken against his lips.

"We didn't fully explore this one." Charles flipped over and brought her to sit over him. "Loosen your hair, love."

Though it was already in a braid, Elsie knew what he wanted. She raised her hands behind her head and laughed as a lustful groan rose from his belly. "God, how I love to look at you," he sighed as he leaned back against the pillows.

She blushed, feeling the heat of the brandy still burning in her cheeks. "I can't think why," she protested.

"Can't you? Then I shall tell you why." He sat up and wrapped one arm around her shoulders and one around her waist. His lips tasted where her shoulder curbed gracefully to meet her neck. "It is because you are beautiful; every inch of you, but especially what you show only to me."

Elsie was wearing her old-fashioned knickers, not having anticipated spending the night with Charles, who preferred the lacy French underthings. In this instance, however, he was grateful for the convenient opening the antiquated garment offered.

"Have we settled on your favorite, then?" She asked in short bursts of breath as his fingers tested and teased her.

"Not necessarily. We've barely scratched the surface. We didn't even get to the couch," he joked. "But I have made one discovery."

"What's that?" Elsie struggled to follow the conversation. She knew he was building to something and she didn't want to miss it.

"Sex is like cricket." He maneuvered her so she could feel him pressing his needful flesh against her, almost inside her.

"How so?" She brought her legs around behind him and awaited the final push of the conversation.

"I don't care what position I'm in, as long as I can still play."

Elsie laughed at his ridiculousness. "And some positions are harder on the knees," she added.

"I knew you'd understand," he laughed. His hands pulled her hips flush against him and she gasped in delight.

They were just finding their rhythm when the doorknob turned, but the door did not open.

"May?" Colin's voice carried through the door as he whispered sharply. "Unlock the door, pet, we need to talk."

"Wrong room, Mr. McAvoy," Charles managed to say without sounding strained though he was panting roughly into Elsie's breasts.

"Oops, sorry. Thanks, mate." They heard Colin shuffle down the hall and knock on the guest room door. They heard it close behind him.

Elsie was fighting back laughter.

"You locked our door?" Charles straightened up and looked into her eyes. He couldn't believe it. Locking his own bedroom door would never have occurred to him.

"After all those years at Downton where we couldn't lock any doors and all the interruptions we endured?" Elsie asked. "You bet I'm locking our door."

"I love you so much right now," he said earnestly. She ran her fingers into his hair and pulled his head back down as she leaned back. They were both laughing as they resumed their undulating dance.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ I assure you all this talk of 'positions' in Chapter 69 is purely a happy coincidence;)**

**I'd love to hear from you! Enjoy that strange animal known as a weekend.**


	70. There Has To Be a Morning After

Early the next morning, Charles descended into the kitchen with quiet treads. He was surprised to find Colin already there, standing at the counter.

"Ah, Charles, good morning!"

"You're very chipper," Charles observed. "I take it your talk with May was to your satisfaction."

"We didn't talk much," Colin winked. He had intended to just talk with May, but she made it clear that talking was not what she wanted from him at the moment. Luckily, he'd thought ahead and knew that he'd be fine as long as he didn't kiss her on the lips and taste the brandy that lingered there. "But it was very satisfying."

Charles tried to ignore the implications and went to the sink to fill a glass of water for Elsie. "How is May this morning? There's headache powder in the upstairs bathroom if she needs it."

"She's already had some," Colin assured his brother-in-law. "Where do you keep the gin, Charles?"

"We don't keep gin in the house," Charles answered, very confused.

"Scotch will do," Colin shrugged. "It doesn't taste quite as good, but the effect will be the same."

"Colin, consider what you're doing," Charles warned.

"Oh, it's not for me. It's for the girls." Charles just now noticed the two glasses in front of Colin. He could not identify what was in them, but he recognized a home remedy when he saw one. He recognized horseradish and raw egg, but nothing else.

"I'll fetch it." Charles returned shortly with a bottle of whiskey, but not the good stuff.

Colin poured two generous portions of the liquor into the glasses and stirred. He recorked the bottle and set it aside. He picked up the glasses and handed one to Charles.

"What's in here? Elsie will want to know."

"No, she won't. Just get her to drink it. It will either invigorate her or make her vomit. Either way, she'll feel better."

Charles wasn't sure he agreed. "That didn't bother you, just now?"

"What?"

"Pouring the whiskey."

Colin looked back at the bottle and thought for a moment. "No. It didn't. It should have, but it didn't."

Charles smiled at him. "I'm glad to hear it."

The two men carried the curative concoctions back to their wives. For Colin, it was a rare role reversal. He tried not to think how often May had made a morning after drink for him.

Charles knocked and pushed into the room. He'd also brought the glass of water. Elsie groaned as the light from the hallway invaded the darkness of her sanctuary. She'd managed to sit up and pile the pillows up behind her. Somehow, sitting up felt slightly better to her than lying flat. Her hair was tied back in an uncharacteristically untidy plait.

"I didn't even drink that much," she lamented.

"You drank as much as the others, I'll warrant," Charles corrected her gently. "Just because you handled it better last night doesn't mean it can't catch up with you this morning. Drink this."

"What is it?"

"A cure, according to Colin."

"You try it first," she challenged.

"I'm not the one with a hangover," Charles insisted.

"I won't drink it unless you do," Elsie declared stubbornly.

Knowing better than to argue, Charles considered the glass and took a small sip.

"And?"

"It's vile," Charles confirmed. "What did you expect? Still, you should drink it. Colin says it will help."

"He should know." Elsie accepted the glass from him. She pinched her nose closed and downed the drink as quickly as she could. Charles watched her briefly fight the urge to retch but she mastered her gorge and smiled wanly at him. He handed her the glass of water and climbed back into bed. She sipped tentatively at the water before setting it aside and leaning back against him. Charles put an arm around her. With his other hand, he stroked her hair gently.

"Do we have to go back today? I just want to sleep all day."

"You'll feel better by the afternoon and you and May can catch the late train. Colin and I can leave whenever we like. The drive isn't very long and the roads should be clear." But Elsie wasn't listening. She'd drifted back to sleep, lulled by his gentle petting of her aching head.

-00-

It was past ten o'clock when Elsie shuffled downstairs, driven by hunger. She found Charles and Colin enjoying coffee and toast.

"Is there only toast?" She asked with disappointment. Was she expected to make breakfast in her state? Elsie was about to cut loose on her lazy husband when he jumped up and opened the oven, where a skillet of eggs, beans and sausage was being kept warm.

Colin poured her some coffee as Charles prepared a plate. Elsie plopped unceremoniously into her chair. "At least I beat May down," she mumbled.

"Don't bet on it, sister dear," came a pathetic voice from the sitting room. "I've been up for hours."

"If you count lying unconscious on our couch as 'up'," Charles whispered to his wife.

"I'm just glad I'm not at the house today. Beryl will be a terror and then some." Elsie sprinkled some pepper onto her eggs before tearing into her breakfast.

"We'll be asked not to interfere with the house staff in future, I don't doubt," Charles agreed. "I'm sure Mr. Barrow will have some choice words for you."

"Then I will tell him precisely what he can do with those choice words."

Charles laughed and kissed the top of her head before sitting back down. "I've heard from Mr. Bates. He and Anna would like us to meet them at the Grantham Arms this afternoon."

"Really? That bodes well."

"It seems we will be staying an extra day, though you can't sleep it all away."

"But what about the chairs and things? I promised Suzanne we'd have them at the warehouse first thing tomorrow morning. There's an event coming up and she wanted to organize…"

"Colin has a solution to that. He and May will drive the van back this afternoon."

"If she'd not feeling up to it, I can drive it back on my own and she can come home with you on the train tomorrow," Colin nodded. "Though I hope she'll be up for the trip. I like the idea of riding through the countryside with my girl." He raised his voice so May could hear.

"If the countryside will stop spinning, that sounds lovely," was May's feeble response.

-00-

Yorkshire finally settled down and the ground remained stable enough that, come two o'clock, May agreed to accompany Colin back to Hull in the van. They dropped Charles and Elsie off at the Grantham Arms on their way out of the village.

Colin bought them some wrapped sandwiches and cold pop from the grocer and started out on their road trip. May's head was still a little tender, but the fresh air coming in the windows made her feel better still.

When they were on the other side of York, Colin suggested they take a break and enjoy their sandwiches and pop. Colin pulled the van over in a wide section of the road. He stopped the engine, set the brake and took a blanket from under the seat. A little ways off the road, they found a shade tree and sat down for their picnic looking across the valley towards the Yorkshire wolds.

"I'm glad you agreed to join me," Colin said after they'd enjoyed their repast in silence.

"It's a lovely way to see the country."

"I'm glad I have you as a captive audience."

"Captive? Are you about to say something that would make me run?"

"I hope not," Colin admitted nervously. "We're doing alright, aren't we, love?"

"I'd say we're doing better than ever," May answered. It was the truth, but she began to worry as soon as she'd spoken. Was he about to ask her to let him move in? She hoped not. It was too soon, but it would break his heart if she rejected him.

"Things are going so well, I sometimes feel like we ought to be living as man and wife again…" he spoke haltingly.

"It may seem that way…" May started to hedge.

"…But I'm not ready." They spoke in unison.

Colin looked up from his half empty pop bottle in wonder. "What? You too?"

"I don't want to change anything at this point," May smiled as he returned his eyes to the road. "As you say, things are going so well. It would be tempting fate to rush things."

"I agree, completely." Colin sighed with relief. "And here I thought I might hurt your feelings by wanting to stay as we are."

"I'm glad you were willing to be honest with me. Colin, neither of us has ever been asked to stand on our own. I think this past month apart has been good for us both."

"Me too, and I've thought a lot about it. I don't want us to spend our evenings together worrying about when we'll be ready to live together again."

"It's hard for me not to think of it whenever we're together. Especially when we're together like last night," May observed. Even through the alcohol, she'd enjoyed last night very much.

"I think we should set a time frame, two or three months, say, when we won't discuss it at all. Just eliminate that pressure. Your flat is your flat. I will only visit or stay when invited to do so. We won't speak of it or worry about it because it's completely off the table," Colin proposed.

"At the end of that time period, we'll each say whether we're ready or not to make a change. If we both say yes, we'll move forward. If one or both of us say no, we'll wait another three months before discussing it again."

"You don't mind waiting?"

"May, you've been waiting for forty years for the husband you deserve. I want to be that man, but I'm not there yet. If we can both give it a little more time, I know that I can be." He stroked her face as they both fought back happy tears. "I love you, May, and I have no doubt that we will be together again as man and wife."

"And _when_ this happens doesn't matter to you?"

"I'm finally past worrying _if_ it is going to happen. We're sharing our lives, we don't have to share rooms."

"I love you, too, Colin." She kissed him tenderly and pulled him down with her to lay on the blanket.

"That's all I need to know," he smiled and kissed her more fervently, ignoring the honking of a horn and some catcalls from a passing motor.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ With that, we will be hearing a lot less from Coy for a while. They're progressing cautiously and are happy, let's leave them there. Thank you for embracing them and caring about them, but we need more Chelsie time.  
**

**Sorry for the lag in posting, but my muse has been AWOL and the new eps haven't helped. Maybe some lovely reviews will help me through my creative hangover;) **

* * *

**AN the second/ Regarding the last chapter, several people wanted to know what sexual position 'bowler' would be. I will only say that, here in America, there are two positions from**** the game of baseball (a descendant of rounders, which is basically cricket) ****that are often used as descriptors in the homosexual community; ****'pitcher' and 'catcher'. I will further 'only say' that, in the Downton cricket match, Carson was the bowler/pitcher and Lord G. the wicket keeper/catcher. Make of that what you will.  
**


	71. Let Him Go

Charles and Elsie were already seated with Mr. Samuels when Anna and John arrived at the Grantham Arms. John smiled apologetically as Lord Grantham followed him into the pub. Robert looked flustered.

"Charles, could we have a word outside?" Robert smiled quickly at Elsie. She, in turn, gave Charles a warning grimace.

"Of course." Charles followed his brother out into the spring afternoon. Isis jumped up as her master exited the pub and seemed confused when he did not head home immediately. "What seems to be troubling you?"

"What do you think you are doing?" Robert demanded.

"I gather Bates has spoken to you about the pub?" Charles surmised.

"He has," Robert blustered. "I don't see why it is any business of yours to broker this sale for Bates."

"It probably shouldn't be, you're correct," Charles agreed. "But it has become my business."

He tried to explain. "When Elsie and I were engaged and considering our options, I spoke to Mr. Samuels about purchasing the pub from him. I didn't know about the opportunities I'd find in Hull. Though we turned him down, it was an excellent offer. Not to mention that Mr. Samuels is ready to retire and seemed so pleased to know he could turn the Arms over to someone who would respect the history of the pub, its role in the village and its connection to the family. I felt badly just saying no, so I mentioned the chance to Mr. Bates."

"And in doing so, you've cost me my valet and Mary her maid!" Robert groused. "It's bad enough that I lost my butler and my housekeeper, but this is beyond the pale." Robert paced back and forth in front of the pub. Isis followed dutifully for a time, but stopped when she realized they weren't going anywhere.

"Listen to yourself, Robert; '_my _valet', '_my_ butler', '_my_ housekeeper'. It's a little insulting," Charles' smile softened the blow, but his point was made. "You knew Bates wanted to start a family in earnest. He said he'd discussed it with you."

"Yes, but…"

"But you thought he'd still want to work fourteen hour days away from his wife and child, possibly _children_?" Charles looked at Robert doubtfully. "When you really think about it, Robert, you know it wouldn't work."

"I'd have made allowances," Robert insisted. "We allowed them to marry after all."

"You permitted them to remain in your employ after they married," Charles clarified. "There's a difference. You are the best employer a valet could ever hope for, I'm sure, but that doesn't change the fact that a family will demand more of his time than you will be willing to give up or he would be willing to ask for. Mr. Bates wouldn't want to stay on with the understanding that he would be permitted to do a substandard job."

"Finding a good valet is such a chore," Robert pouted.

"But finding a friend is even harder," Charles reminded him, eyebrows raised in an _'I dare you to tell me I'm wrong' _expression. "Mr. Bates is your friend. He'll be right here in the village. He's not going anywhere. You can meet and chat as acquaintances now. Wouldn't you like to interact with him more as cherished and respected friends?"

Robert considered this. He didn't have very many friends, when you came down to it. "I suppose I would."

"Then be happy for him. There are a lot of valets available right now; good ones who have been let go through no fault of their own. I'll help you choose one if you like."

This calmed the Earl considerably. "I am happy for him, honestly. I was just caught off guard."

"I know this is difficult. I'm not a big fan of change, myself."

"I hadn't noticed." And with that, Robert accepted the inevitable. "But what's this nonsense about you and Elsie lending them the money to start out? The estate should do that."

"If you insist, but Elsie wants to do something for them. We've been very fortunate, thanks in large part to your generosity," Charles hastened to add. "The pub has very steady income, but it will need updates and repairs at the start to optimize its potential. Let us help with that."

"I can't stop you from helping them, Charles, nor would I, but I intend to give them both severances worthy of their loyalty."

"That's commendable, Robert, but you might not mention such largess in front of Mr. Samuels. We are still in negotiations, after all."

"Understood," Robert agreed. "I should go, or I will distract from the negotiation. Will you and Elsie join us for dinner this evening? No need to change, Mama and Isobel aren't joining us."

"Then I will accept for Elsie and myself." Charles patted Robert on the back in a rare show of familiarity. "You'll see, Robert. You'll enjoy having John as your local landlord even more than having him tie your shoes for you."

"I can tie my own shoes," Robert protested with a smile.

"Yes, you _can_ but you _don't_," Charles winked.

Robert laughed at that. "Just for that, I think I shall invite Mama and let her remind you that it is bad form to steal someone's valet. Though I guess you aren't stealing him so much as liberating him."

"You know me, a revolutionary to the core," Charles laughed. "Stick around for a pint, Robert. They're probably already done with the negotiations. At the very least, they won't take long and I know it will mean a lot to everyone if you'll celebrate with us."

"Thank you, Charles. I'd like that." Robert smiled with genuine pleasure. If felt good to have an older brother around to remind him of what was important. Now, he would also have a real friend who wasn't paid to listen to him, but actually liked him. Robert happily followed Charles back into the pub. Isis lay back down by the pub door with a huff that seemed to say, _'Why can't humans just make up their minds?'_

TBC...

* * *

**AN/ Just a short one today to keep the creative juices flowing. I know there was some anticipation of Banna/Chelsie but Robert hijacked that. You knew he was bound to be upset. Wait until Mary finds out!**


	72. Uppity Minx

**AN/ _The report of my death was an exaggeration._- Mark Twain**

**I'm back;)**

* * *

Charles had been correct; the negotiations were very brief and straightforward. Mr. Samuels was willing to honor the original quoted price. It was a fair price, but one that allowed for John and Anna to make some capital improvements immediately. Now that he had committed buyers, Mr. Samuels was eager to begin his retirement.

All parties were quite happy with the arrangement.

"Thank you for walking back with me, Mrs.- Els- Mum," Anna gushed again. She and Elsie were walking arm in arm up the path to Downton. "I did not relish telling Lady Mary on my own."

"And I didn't relish another round of cheer. I had plenty last night," Elsie laughed. She'd toasted the business deal with the others, but when Mr. Samuels, Robert and Charles had recharged their glasses she had declined. John and Anna had both toasted with a cola, a detail which had not escaped Elsie's keen observation. "Is there any particular reason you didn't join in the libation?"

"Not yet, but the doctor mentioned that alcohol might have an effect, so I'm just being cautious." They were walking by the break of trees just before the Abbey would come into view. Anna surprised Elsie by drawing her into a deep embrace.

"Whatever was that for, lass?" Elsie giggled.

"I'm just so grateful for everything you are doing for me," Anna said tearfully. "You and Mr. Carson. John told me what Mr. Carson said about you wanting to help me and to consider the money as a dowry. I'll admit, I cried."

"You couldn't have been surprised to find how much we both care for you," Elsie soothed her hands along Anna's back.

"I wasn't surprised to know it of you, but I didn't expect it of Mr. Carson. You've changed him so. He would never have said such a thing before."

"It's true, he wouldn't have said anything so personal while he was still butler, but I haven't changed him. People keep saying that, but he is still, fundamentally, the same man he has always been." Elsie saw Anna begin to protest. "He wasn't free to express himself before, but the sentiments have always been there."

"If you say so," Anna smiled. "But you must at least concede that you had a hand in extracting the man from the butler."

"Very well, I concede," Elsie patted Anna's hair before giving her a motherly kiss on her head. "Now, let's get going. It wouldn't do to antagonize Lady Mary by not being there when she and Lady Rose return from shopping in York."

Anna nodded and took Elsie's arm to resume their journey to the Abbey. "I can't say enough how much your support means. I don't think I could face her alone."

"Are you that frightened of Lady Mary?" Elsie teased the girl who clung to her.

"I'm frightened of upsetting her," Anna admitted. "I know she isn't your favorite, but she has been a true friend to me."

Elsie fought back a scoff. While she would admit Mary had shown some promise and progress, Elsie doubted the depth of the Lady's devotion to her maid. Now was not the time to voice such a belief. "She's beginning to grow on me," Elsie admitted. "She is my niece now, but she can still be an uppity minx."

Elsie and Anna laughed the rest of their way up the path to Downton.

-00-

"Auntie Elsie, what a pleasant surprise. I'd love your opinion on my purchases." Mary was seated at her dressing table removing her hat as Anna scurried about unpacking the day's treasures from a small mountain of boxes. Elsie knew a quarter of the items would be sent back, one quarter would be given to Rose or Edith and another quarter would never be worn. Mary's capricious relationship with fashion reminded Elsie of her Aunt Rosamund.

Elsie hovered uncomfortably near the door. She'd not been in Mary's bedroom since her elevation to 'aunthood'. Mary looked about the room and finally realized that there was not another chair set out for Elsie. The uppity minx shocked her aunt and maid by jumping up and pulling a chair from the corner and setting it beside her own. Elsie sat in the chair and nodded her thanks.

"It was a pleasant day for shopping, I gather?"

"Too pleasant, as you can see, but I'm sure some of it will do for Edith. She's dressing rather better lately, but she's had such a sour mug since that newspaper man ran off to Germany."

"I don't think he's run off," Elsie argued gently.

"Well, I don't think she's heard from him," Mary gossiped. Elsie filed that unexpected information away for later. Right now was about helping Anna break some difficult news to the unpredictable creature known as Lady Mary.

"I heard you took Miss Sybbie shopping in Thirsk the other day," Elsie subtly introduced the subject of children.

"She didn't last very long, but we'll build up her stamina," Aunt Mary promised proudly. "She enjoyed the toy store. I think we won't start there next time. She bought George a lovely teddy bear."

"They're so sweet at that age, but it's a rare child who thinks of others."

"It's a rare _person,_" Mary quipped. Anna unpacked a bright red cloche hat.

"Hopefully by Italy I will be in the mood for such a bright color," Mary commented, barely looking at the item she'd purchased less than two hours ago. "I wonder what they are wearing in Italy right now? Maybe I should take some empty cases to Italy and fill them in Milan. What do you think, Anna?"

"If you want to dress in Italian fashions while in Italy, that seems the best plan," Anna agreed.

"But you must promise to tell me if I've gone too Italian. I wouldn't want to embarrass Uncle Carson."

Anna cast Elsie a worried look that begged for intervention.

"That's assuming Anna makes the trip, Mary," Elsie jumped in with both feet.

Mary looked flummoxed from Elsie to Anna. "Why ever wouldn't she? Anna, is there something you need to tell me?"

"Actually…"

"You're pregnant!" Mary jumped up and rushed to her maid. In a most uncharacteristic show of emotion, Mary grabbed Anna's hands and smiled at her with an enthusiasm that shocked both Anna and Elsie.

"Not yet, milady, but…"

Mary dropped Anna's hands in frustration. "You mustn't do that to me! My heart can hardly take such volatility."

"I'm sorry to have misled you, milady," Anna apologized while Elsie refrained from pointing out that it was Mary's own assumption that had caused the wild fluctuation of feelings.

"You do promise to tell me as soon as there is such a development?"

"Of course."

"We'll need to train up Madge to cover for you when the work gets too much. I won't share Braithwaite with mother. I don't trust that woman."

"It's funny you should say that, milady," Anna began with a timid look to Elsie who smiled and nodded her support. "Mr. Bates and I have been discussing what we feel would work best for us when we start our family."

"Don't worry about Papa, I'll have him give Bates sufficient time off," Mary declared magnanimously.

"But that wouldn't be fair to Lord Grantham," Anna looked terrified to be defying Lady Mary. "Nor would it be fair to ask you to allow me additional time."

"What are you saying?" Mary was suddenly very serious.

"Mr. Bates and I are planning to purchase the Grantham Arms and raise our family in the village," Anna blurted out bravely. "We don't feel we could properly serve you or our own family if we remained in service. I hope…"

Mary exploded. "How long have you been planning to abandon me?"

"It has always been my plan to leave service when I have a child."

"This is the first I'm hearing of it," Mary huffed. "I thought we were friends. And to think, I was helping you with the clinic fees."

"We are friends, but I can't be a mother _and_ a maid; there are only so many hours in the day," Anna argued.

"I don't agree. We'd get a little nurse maid to look after…"

"I will be looking after my own child, thank you very much." Anna's temper was rising now. Elsie could see the warning signs. Anna rarely lost her cool, but if she did, it was not likely to end well for anyone."I will not be content to see my child for only a few hours a day."

Mary blanched as though she'd been struck. "Are you calling me a bad mother?"

Elsie knew this conversation had to be stopped. She jumped up from her chair. "No one is saying anything of the sort! Mary, come with me for a walk to cool down. You've had this sprung on you out of the blue and everyone should take a step back before things no one means are said."

Mary wheeled around at Elsie. "I won't be put out of my own room! How long have you known about this?"

"We've been thinking about it since Mr. and Mrs. Carson married," Anna offered before Elsie could stop her.

"It was only decided today," Elsie assured Mary.

"They are helping us with the purchase," Anna added unhelpfully.

"So this is your fault?"

"I don't think this is a situation for assigning fault, milady." Elsie fell back into housekeeper mode in the face of a livid Lady Mary. "Indeed, His Lordship is helping as well."

"Papa knows?" Mary stared at Anna. "You told my father before you told me?"

"Mr. Bates told him this morning. You'd already gone or I would have told you at the same time."

"You should go," Mary said cooly as she returned to her chair and turned to the mirror. She patted powder on her flushed cheeks.

"But the clothes, milady." Anna waved a hand halfheartedly towards the bed.

"Can wait," Mary said with a finality that declared any further discussion closed.

Elsie nodded reassuringly at Anna and mouthed the words_, 'I'll handle it.'_ Anna slunk dispiritedly out of the room.

It took Mary a few moments to realize that Elsie had remained behind. "Have you stayed to twist the knife?"

"I've stayed to answer any questions you may have," Elsie said calmly. "And to see what you've bought."

Mary gawked at Elsie as she walked to the bed and lifted the dress that was paired with the hat. It was a large floral print with a low back and several layers of bright red fringe where a skirt should be. "I shouldn't wear this when the Dowager dines with you."

"I'm still not sure about the color," Mary tried to be engaged but failed. "What does it matter? I was so looking forward to this trip and now, it's ruined. I don't want to travel with Madge again, the daft girl will probably get lost in Italy."

"You had to have known that Anna couldn't stay with you forever," Elsie said reasonably as she hung the fringy dress. "What if you remarry and leave Downton?"

"I doubt I'll ever remarry and I'll never leave Downton," Mary declared. "My son will be Earl of Grantham and he will be raised here so he will learn to love it as much as I do."

"You knew she wanted to start a family," Elsie tried again.

"But I didn't think she's leave. It never occurred to me," Mary frowned. "You must think me terribly selfish."

"I think it's always hard to accept change," Elsie said kindly. "She's only moving to the village."

"I know you are trying to comfort me, but I think I just need some time to process this. Leave the clothes, you shouldn't bother with those. It's beneath you," Mary insisted. "Please tell Anna that I won't be changing for dinner."

"Very good, milady," Elsie stopped fiddling with the ribbon on the next dress box and bowed her way towards the door.

"Are we, any of us, really capable of changing, Aunt Elsie?" Mary asked in a small, lost voice.

"I believe we can adjust to the circumstances around us, but I don't think we ever change," Elsie said, thinking of her earlier talk with Anna. "But I think that can be a good thing. Something has to be constant in this world."

After the door closed Mary sat in silence, contemplating those words. Matthew once told her he knew she was a good person because he had seen her naked. She'd laughed it off because they'd been in bed at the time, but now she wondered. Maybe he hadn't been speaking literally. Maybe it hadn't been his perception that made her into a woman she respected. Maybe that woman was always there and Matthew had only seen it more clearly than others because she'd let him see.

Mary stood and began to organize her clothes. She looked at these clothes that would have been considered pornographic less than ten years before. Times were changing and it wasn't for Lady Mary Crawley to pick and choose what changed.

Slowly, Mary became aware that she was crying. She wasn't sure what she was crying for. She only felt that the place deep inside her that carried her memory of Matthew and Sybil safely sealed away had reopened. The prospect of Anna's leaving made her feel terribly lonely. Mary sat on her bed and cried. Her grandmother would have scolded her for being so emotional over a servant, but Anna was more than that.

Mary swore to herself she would do whatever it took to keep Mrs. Anna Bates as a confidant and friend. Mary was terrified that she didn't know how to be a friend. She took comfort in the fact that only a few short months ago she thought she'd lost her treasured butler, but she'd received a loving uncle and aunt in return.

The tears stopped as gradually as they'd arrived. Mary put away the clothes before laying down on her bed with a cool wet rag on her eyes. It would never do to have red puffy eyes when she stopped by the nursery on her way to dinner.

TBC...

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**AN/ Sorry for the absence without warning. A combination of factors contributed to it but I'm determined to power through the next week with more dedication. **

**I know I promised more Chelsie, but I couldn't force it this chapter. The conversation at the bar was too boring. There will be some bits of Charles and Elsie next chapter, but a LOT of Chelsie the chapter after.**


	73. Ever the Housekeeper

Elsie considered going back to Mary's room, but she knew Anna needed her even more. She rushed downstairs and found the door to the housekeeper's sitting room shut.

"Anna?" Elsie knocked and entered the Spartan room. Anna had not moved properly into this room and it currently had no personality. In her years occupying this room, Elsie had thought she kept her decorations simple and practical, with a touch of comfort. Seeing the room this sparse made her time here look like a cluttered mess by comparison. She found herself longing for their office back in their Hull flat. It was a perfect combination of she and Charles.

Elsie pushed aside thoughts of home and focused her attentions on Anna. "Are you alright, child?" Anna was sitting in the swivel chair, wiping her eyes and trying to smile. "You should lock the door when you cry. No one respects a closed door in this place." Elsie winked ironically.

This made Anna chuckle. "How is she? Still angry?"

"Don't worry about Lady Mary. She'll come around and see sense," Elsie insisted and actually believed. Elsie sat at the little table in the chair nearest Anna. "I think she was just shocked and a little hurt."

"I should have told her this morning, but John wanted to make sure Lord Grantham was the first to know."

"I don't think there would have ever been a good time to tell her. Truthfully, that went a lot better than I expected."

Anna stared at Elsie aghast. "You think it could have been worse?"

"She didn't throw anything," Elsie shrugged. "That seems like a good sign."

"Thank you again," Anna sniffed. "I'm afraid you are in for a very uncomfortable dinner."

"At least the Dowager won't be there," Elsie pointed out the silver lining. "Have you and John discussed when you should leave?"

Anna fiddled with a pen on the nearly empty desk. "Not before they find suitable replacements, but we agree that sooner is better than later. It feels like we've put it off so long already."

"I know the feeling."

"It doesn't make sense to wait until we know a child is on the way. In fact, the doctors at the clinic said stress could be affecting both of us and they recommended getting more sleep," Anna explained.

"Not much chance of that here," Elsie acknowledged. "I don't even work here anymore and I'm usually exhausted at the end of the day."

"When are you and Mr. Carson going back to Hull?"

"Tomorrow, I should think," Elsie shrugged. "We are getting into a very busy time with events and Charles has a large wine shipment due in a few days."

"Just like old times," Anna smiled.

"Only on a larger scale and on our terms," Elsie agreed. "You'll see what I mean soon. I should get back to the cottage to freshen up before dinner. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Anna assured her. "Even if I'm not, there's too much work to do right now to be otherwise. The kitchen staff is still recovering from Mrs. Patmore's rough morning. "

"She shared her miserable state with everyone, I take it."

"I haven't seen Ivy since before lunch; she must be hiding in the larder. Also, I think there may still be a cloud of profanity lingering over the Abbey."

"Best to avoid her then," Elsie grimaced. "She's likely to blame me."

"Oh, you were mentioned, by name, several times," Anna confirmed with a smirk. "She was threatening to serve hard tack and gruel for dinner if you were coming."

"I'd convince Charles to let us dine at home tonight if there was a crumb of food in the place."

"I could send some food to the cottage if you like," Anna offered. Elsie almost accepted, but thought better of it.

"She's even more likely to sabotage that," Elsie reflected. "And, uncomfortable or not, I think Charles and I need to be at dinner tonight. We've not spent much time with the family this trip. They'll claim we're using them like an hotel." Elsie did not mention that she was concerned about Edith.

"I suppose everyone will know about our plans once Barrow hears," Anna sounded worried.

"Steal his thunder and announce it just before service starts," Elsie suggested.

"Thank you, I think we should."

The far off clang of Mr. Barrow ringing the changing gong reached them. The sound brought back such dear memories. She could always tell when Charles let one of the footmen sound the gong. They lacked the proper technique. She'd often teased him about making a production out of such a simple act. In truth, the way he reminded the whole house of the impending dinner with a drawn out, subtle music was infinitely preferable to the brassy manner Barrow used.

Elsie and Anna stood at the same time. Elsie gave Anna a quick hug and an encouraging smile. "Be strong, me darling lass." It was a phrase from her mother, one Elsie had rarely had occasion to use. The way Anna beamed back at her warmed Elsie's heart.

She pulled herself away and they both left the sitting room, heading in opposite directions.

Elsie had arrived by the front door, so she had to leave that way to retrieve her light coat. As she walked through the main hall, Tom called down to her from the gallery.

"Mrs. Carson!"

Elsie flinched to hear such a loud voice used in this dignified space. She waited where she was as he descended the stairs. When he was close enough that she could use a reasonable volume, Elsie answered him.

"Mr. Branson, how are you this fine day?" He looked rather haggard to her eye, truth be told.

"I've been better. I wonder could I speak to you?"

"Of course, what a silly question."

"In private? About something rather delicate?"

"Delicate? My, my. I think I _have_ to hear it now."

TBC...

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**AN/ Do drop a note if you can. **


	74. Before Dinner

**AN/ I need to just stop promising things and admit I have no control over this story;) Here's some Chelsie, but not what I'd intended. That has been temporarily postponed.**

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Elsie met Charles on the path between their cottage and the house. She was so deep in thought she'd have walked right into him if he hadn't spoken up.

"I thought you'd just decided to stay at the house," he said with an alcohol influenced chuckle. It was not his custom to drink before dinner, but Robert had kept filling his glass.

"At this rate, I should have," Elsie sighed. Charles heard the exasperation in her voice.

"Is everything alright? Would you like to go back to the cottage and lie down? We don't have to dine with the family tonight. I'll say you're ill. I can get some food from Mrs. Patmore and we can enjoy a quiet meal where we aren't going to be blamed for the erosion of society." He was rambling. He knew it, but couldn't stop it.

Elsie couldn't reply in words. She simply hugged him. She buried herself in his midsection until he confusedly returned her embrace. His simple concern and need to make it right was exactly what she needed. Elsie knew Charles' slight inebriation was hindering his usual talent for solving her problems, but nothing would ever stop him from trying.

Her reaction did not lessen his concern. "That settles it; I'm taking you back to the cottage this instant." He tried to guide her back in the direction from which he'd just come.

"No," she finally spoke. "They'll accuse us of stirring the pot and then abandoning the kitchen."

"They can accuse all they like," Charles insisted sternly. He was deadly sober now.

"I haven't even seen Cora or Edith," Elsie said, pulling away from him and tugging him back towards the big house.

"Write them a letter," Charles said dismissively.

"Can't I just enjoy a hug from my husband?" She teased.

"I hope you more that '_just_ enjoy'…" He relaxed a very little. "Mary wasn't _that_ bad, was she?"

"Well, she was Mary and that's all I'll say for now. We'll see how she is at dinner."

Charles stopped her progress and took her by her shoulders firmly but gently. He leaned so that they were eye to eye and looked directly into her eyes as if challenging her to lie to him. "Honestly, love, is everything alright?"

"It's just been a long day and I had a slow start." She kissed his nose and smiled winningly. Now was not the time to tell him about Tom's predicament with a certain aggressive lady's maid. "By the look of it, you may have a slow start tomorrow."

"I'd tell Barrow not to serve me any wine with dinner, but he might take it personally. He won't admit it, but he values my opinion on the matter. I must admit his selections are getting better."

"A glowing endorsement if ever I heard one."

They linked arms and walked around to the front of the house where they rang. They'd both have preferred to use the servant's entrance, but at this time of night, their presence downstairs would have been disruptive. Elsie was glad to avoid Mrs. Patmore for a little while yet.

"Mr. and Mrs. Carson," Barrow greeted them in his usual, slick fashion.

"Good evening, Mr. Barrow. James," Charles allowed James to remove his coat while Thomas saw to Elsie's.

"There was phone call for you, Mr. Carson," Thomas said in a conversational tone.

"Is there a message?"

Barrow produced a folded slip of paper from his pocket. Elsie saw Charles bristle at such informality, but he took the paper without comment. He read the note quickly and Elsie knew it was not good news. "This says the call came in at one this afternoon," Charles pointed out. "Did you not think to send it on to the cottage?"

"I do not believe that falls under the prevue of my position, Mr. Carson," Thomas smarmed. "The caller did not indicate that it was important."

"But you heard the message; didn't you think it might be useful for me to receive it before the close of business today?"

"I confess, it did not occur to me," Thomas insisted.

Elsie gave a little cough and Charles refrained from lecturing Thomas on how a butler must anticipate such things if he is to be of use to anyone. He offered Thomas a scowl, but dutifully followed James into the drawing room. They were the first to be down for dinner.

"What was the message?" Elsie asked after James left.

"The Chianti shipment is three days early," he told her with obvious frustration.

"Isn't being early better than being late?"

"No doubt that's what they thought when they gave us the estimated arrival date. I don't trust companies that hedge their timetables. I wonder if that's an Italian thing; I hear their trains never run on time since the war," Charles groused.

"From whom did you hear that?" Elsie challenged. "Most likely someone who can't stand waiting two minutes for their tea."

Since Charles' source was the Dowager Countess, he chose to remain silent on the matter.

"It is a big problem?" Elsie asked, willing to take her victory without gloating.

"It's an inconvenience. We are still emptying the warehouse where the shipment is to be delivered. We'll have trucks coming and going at the same time, which Arthur detests. He is going to be livid. Fredrick or I should be there when the wine arrives or he'll rip into the poor lorry driver. If it's anyone's fault, it certainly won't be that poor soul's."

Elsie had already heard tales of the legendary head of warehousing for _Carson and Son Shipping_. He seemed like a man after Charles' own heart. Charles spoke of him with a good deal of respect. He was clearly a man with demanding standards, but he was not known for his subtly or tact.

"Ah, you're already here," Robert offered them a boisterous greeting. His cheeks were red, but he looked alert.

"Might I borrow your phone, Robert? I need to call my cousin in Hull."

"Certainly," Robert smiled. "I hope everything is alright?"

"Just a mix up with a shipment. I need to assure him I'll be back as early as possible tomorrow."

By the time Charles returned, the family were all assembled except for Mary. Elsie was chatting with Edith and actually earned a smile as Charles joined them.

Charles tried desperately to focus on Edith's talk of the newspaper and Mr. Gregson's strange silence, but he could not help but watch the door for Mary. It was nothing unusual for Mary to be late but Elsie was apprehensive in what mood Mary would be coming to diner.

When Mary did arrive, there was no time to assess her mood as Barrow followed her into the drawing room to announce dinner.

TBC…


	75. I Blame You

The small family party was soon seated at the table that was almost round with the leaves taken out. Robert was to Elsie's left and Tom was on her right. After Tom came Edith, Cora, Charles, Mary and Rose, who sat beside Robert.

Charles motioned Thomas away as he approached with the first wine of the night. "None for me tonight, thank you, Mr. Barrow."

To Elsie's great surprise, Thomas did indeed look hurt. She'd thought Charles was imagining things to suggest that Barrow cared about his opinion, but, clearly, it was true. Charles could not see Barrow's reaction, but he did see his wife's unspoken prompt to play nice.

"Perhaps just a splash," Charles quickly changed tacks. "I had a bit of cheer at the Grantham Arms earlier. I don't want any wine going to waste, but it would be a shame to miss out on such fine selections."

The change in Thomas was instantaneous. Elsie could not help but marvel at the power of even a simple compliment. Even a soul as complex and shielded as Thomas Barrow could be touched by a kind word.

"Won't you share why you were at the Grantham Arms, Uncle Carson?" Mary suggested archly before tasting her own wine.

"I think your father should announce it," Charles smiled across the table to his brother. "His kindness has helped to bring it about."

"Yes, but you're to blame," Mary insisted.

Edith and Tom looked expectantly to Robert for explanation. They were the only ones in the room who didn't know about the Bateses plan to purchase the Grantham Arms.

"The idea was yours, Charles," Robert conceded, "But I am glad to say the estate will be playing a role in helping Mr. and Mrs. Bates become the new proprietors of the Grantham Arms."

"Old Samuels has been talking about retiring for years, but I never thought he'd do it," Tom smiled.

"His family has run the Arms for over eighty years," Robert noted. "He was waiting for the perfect buyers."

"He couldn't have chosen any better," Cora agreed. "I'm so glad they won't be leaving Downton altogether. I was worried they'd run off to London."

"I shall be sorry to lose Mr. Bates as a valet but I am very happy for them both," Robert said magnanimously. This earned him smiles from everyone around the table save one.

"And I suppose I'm to dance a jig and be happy for them too?" Mary pouted. "Well I'm not happy for them."

Cora and Robert looked shocked at Mary's words. Everyone else had expected this sentiment, though Charles still looked extremely disappointed. He set down his water goblet and turned to her. "Would you like to explain that statement? As is, it sounds rather…"

"Selfish?" Mary spat.

"I was going to say insensitive," her uncle countered softly.

"Well it isn't selfish or insensitive," Mary snapped back. "I don't see that raising a child in a filthy pub surrounded by drunks is preferable to raising a child here at Downton with all the advantages we can offer. I'd have paid for a nursery maid and the child could share our governess when we hire one." She had tried to accept Anna's new opportunities, but it didn't seem like an opportunity to her. Mostly, Mary just wasn't ready to let Anna leave without putting up a fight.

"That is not how Anna wants to raise her child," Elsie said gently. "And I'm sure she wants more than one."

"The pub isn't filthy," Robert insisted. He almost withered under Mary's scathing look, but he pressed on. "Or it _won't_ be. They are planning to make improvements when they take over."

"What sort of improvements?" Cora asked, hoping it would steer the conversation away from Mary's selfish petulance.

"They're going to expand the kitchen for one," Robert answered cheerfully, taking her lead and grateful, as ever, for his wife's subtle art of presiding over her table.

"I hope they won't sack Tanner," Tom jumped in.

"The Grantham Arms would hardly be the same without Tanner's 'everything but the kitchen sink' stew," Charles laughed. "They are retaining all the current staff, but hope to offer more options from the kitchen and upgrade the guest rooms for weekend motorists."

"But it's still a public house…" Mary protested.

"A reputable one," Charles reminded her.

"It will be an exciting place to raise their child," Elsie added.

"Is Anna definitely with child then?" Edith perked up and asked with a smile.

"Not yet, but they are hopeful," Elsie answered. "The doctor thinks a lightening of Anna's workload might help them succeed."

"So now I'm the reason they can't have children?" Mary could not believe her ears. "Because working for me is so stressful?"

"It's the nature of the job, not you in particular," Elsie explained, even if she had more opinion on the matter. "It involves long hours and hard work."

At this, Mary knew she'd lost. She fell silent and sipped at her wine. Edith was absolutely beaming. She couldn't remember the last time Mary had been so thoroughly chastised; and by Uncle Carson as well.

"If you think I'm sharing Madge with Edith, you are sorely mistaken," Mary said upon seeing her sister's smirk. "I mean, just look at the state of her hair."

"That's enough on that subject, Mary," Cora said firmly. "Edith's hair is quite presentable."

Edith's smile faltered at this faint praise. Sometimes she wondered why she ever expected any different from her family.

"This will be an exciting time downstairs, don't you think, Barrow? A new housekeeper, valet and lady's maid all at once?" Cora turned to the butler for assistance defusing the situation. She still forgot that he was not cut from the same cloth as Carson.

"It will be nice to have the freedom to innovate and modernize, milady, without the impediment of antiquated thinking," Thomas eyed Charles who felt like pointing out that the wine they were drinking ought to have been served chilled, but bit back the criticism. He could be the better man.

"Mrs. Patmore will still be here," Edith pointed out.

"Speaking of whom, she sent poor Daisy up to ask me to change the menu for tonight," Cora said with a bemused expression. "I really have no idea what we are in for tonight."

"Gruel and hardtack," Elsie muttered.

"Salmon mousse," Thomas announced as James and Alfred arrived with the trays. One of Daisy's specialties, Elsie noted. Beryl must have finally given in and let her assistant take the lead.

The rest of dinner passed in relative civility. Mary was still rather peevish, but she knew better than to reintroduce a subject that would draw the ire of the entire table. Charles eventually settled her down by asking about fashion and letting Rose carry the conversation for everyone for a while.

By the end of the evening, Mary had cooled enough to admit to herself that the world would not come to an end if she had to train a new lady's maid. She had few enough friends in the world, maybe Anna's change of occupations would benefit Mary as well. Mary only vaguely remembered crying in her room mere hours before.

As dessert was cleared, Charles and Elsie begged to be excused from any after dinner gathering. They both wished to call it an early night. Mary walked them to the door, feeling she should say something to regain her uncle's good opinion.

"I promise I will be supportive of Anna, Uncle Carson," Mary said in her most penitent tone, which still managed to sound haughty to Elsie. "I suppose she deserves no less."

"I'm glad you've remembered that loyalty goes both ways, my dear," Charles beamed at her proudly. Elsie didn't think Mary deserved to be forgiven so quickly, but she bit her tongue.

"Yes, well, I still blame you," Mary bid Charles goodnight with a devilish grin and a peck on the cheek. She had the good sense not to be so flip with Elsie. "Good night, Aunt."

TBC…

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**AN/ Too busy for proper AN, but not too busy to beg for reviews;)**


	76. Couch Trip

Elsie sighed contentedly as they both leaned back into the soft cushion of their couch. Charles' arm rested around her shoulder and held her gently to his side. They were in their nightclothes. It was comfortably warm so neither was wearing their robe. Charles had even left the top button of his pajama top unfastened. It was a small thing, but it told Elsie volumes. She was happy that he was finally relaxing enough to be more himself, even in the shadow of Downton. "That was a good day's work, Mr. Carson."

"Agreed, Mrs. Hughes," he teased her with her former title. It was more apt than he knew. The truth was she felt like the housekeeper of old today. "Would you care for another sherry?"

"I really shouldn't," she purred demurely and held out her empty glass. "Today was busy, but tomorrow is not libel to be any easier."

Charles poured her a touch more sherry and returned the decanter to the table that was conveniently just within his reach. He was drinking water. "Why not?"

"Every day has its challenges," she shrugged off his question.

"I thought you enjoyed challenges, my dear. Why else would you have bothered with me?"

"Some challenges are more fun than others," Elsie chuckled. She leaned into him and sipped thoughtfully at her sherry as they sat in blissful silence. As much as she loved his voice and enjoyed their banter, Elsie appreciated that they could also have such moments of shared, regenerative silence. Not that there was ever anything like true silence. She heard the clock ticking, she heard a light spring rain falling outside and she heard his breath as he smelled her hair.

"Do you know, Mrs. Hughes," he stage whispered when she'd finished her sherry. "I have a secret that makes every day easier to face?" He took her empty glass and set it aside as she twisted to face him.

"Do you indeed, Mr. Carson? Do share."

"You," he smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Me?" She asked coyly.

"Yes. You make me eager to greet every day, no matter what tests it may bring."

She pushed gently on his chest until he obeyed and leaned back. "That's odd, Mr. Carson, it so happens I have the very same secret." She lay atop him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hands on his chest.

"Your secret is you too?" His warm hands massaged up and down her spine lightly.

"Yes, 'you'." She raised her head from his chest and kissed his dimpled chin. She felt the skin pull taut as he smiled.

"Well, we can leave our Downton problems behind tomorrow, love, as we leave for Hull first thing in the morning," he comforted her, or so he thought.

"I won't be leaving with you tomorrow," Elsie sighed. He tensed beneath her and she hurried to qualify her statement. "Not on the early train, in any event."

"Why not?"

"I know you have to get back but I've several things to see to here before I can leave."

"Like brokering a peace between Anna and Mary?" Charles frowned.

"Honestly, that's the least of my worries," Elsie admitted. She leaned up and looked at him. "Mary disappointed you tonight, didn't she?"

"She can't mean half of what she says," he insisted.

"Then she should learn not to say it," Elsie could not help but point out. "Charles, Mary is a big girl and she doesn't need to be protected as much as you and Robert seem to think."

"But…"

Elsie interrupted with a fingertip to his lips. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I don't want to argue about her; not again and not tonight. Let's just agree for now that she's better than I think she is, but she's not as perfect as you make her out to be either."

Charles nodded reluctantly. He knew Elsie was right, but silently he hoped Mary would prove his faith in her was justified. "So whose problems _will_ you be solving tomorrow?"

"Tom needed some advice and I want to spend some more time with Edith so we're having lunch in York."

"What's wrong with Edith?"

"Besides the fact that everyone ignores her?" Elsie asked archly.

"Yes, besides that," Charles agreed. That wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

"There's the little matter that her Mr. Gregson is missing." She couldn't believe that Charles had forgotten about that.

"He's gone off to Germany. Just because she hasn't heard from him for a few weeks doesn't mean he's missing."

"It's not just Edith. _No one_ has heard from him in four weeks; not even his business partners."

"Robert didn't mention that."

"I doubt he knows," Elsie grumbled.

"That does change things. No word for four weeks would be worrisome."

"Mr. Gregson's people are concerned enough that they sent someone to investigate. Apparently, he checked into his hotel in Munich, went to the Hofbräuhaus and disappeared."

"People don't just disappear," Charles argued. "He has to be somewhere."

"I'm sure he is, but the question is whether or not he's alive."

"Is Munich so unsafe as that? Fredrick is scheduled to go there while we are in Italy. Perhaps he should cancel his trip."

"Fredrick isn't likely to pick a fight with thugs at the Hofbräuhaus, no matter how offensive they are being."

"Is that what Mr. Gregson did?"

"According to Edith, there was some sort of private, political army meeting at the Hofbräuhaus. They were spouting offensive rhetoric. Mr. Gregson spoke up and hasn't been seen since."

"I won't say he deserved it, but he should have known better," Charles declared. "I had assumed he was an intelligent man, what with running a magazine and all."

"I never met him, but Anna reported that Mr. Matthew quite liked him and thought him bright," Elsie confirmed.

"Picking a fight with a group of thugs in a foreign land does not sound very bright."

"Well, it's done and he's missing, which is the point," Elsie brought Charles back to the topic at hand. "Edith said they'd talked of marriage before he left. If he is dead, she'll mourn him as a widow, I've no doubt."

"No doubt. The poor girl wears her heart on her sleeve in instances like this. She certainly mourned Mr. Patrick more demonstrably than anyone else." More than was proper, he seemed to imply.

"I think that speaks well of her," Elsie defended the most defenseless of the Crawleys.

"I dare say it does," Charles conceded as his wife snuggled herself between him and the back of the sofa. He had to lift his arm over his head to make room for her. Charles knew the middle Crawley daughter deserved more credit than he gave her. She was as intelligent as Mary and as sensitive as Sybil, but she'd never possessed the poise or confidence of either. He felt badly about his inability to understand Edith. He'd made more effort since discovering that he was her uncle, but she still baffled him. She was an odd mix of brooding independence and immature self-pity. Charles was usually content to let Elsie focus on Edith's issues. She had a patience that he lacked.

"What sort of advice does Mr. Branson need?" Charles was a little hurt that Tom hadn't come to him.

"Advice of a personal nature." Elsie wasn't sure what help she could offer, but Tom had been adamant than the family not find out about his drunken indiscretion with Edna and her subsequent extortion. He did not want to hurt Sybil's family with his shameful behavior. Tom was still trying to define his place in the family; neither upstairs nor down.

"And that's all you're willing to say?"

"At the moment," Elsie said, enigmatically. She knew that Charles would overreact if he was told right now. It was best to resolve the problem and inform Charles of the details at a much later date.

"Fair enough," Charles accepted her answer without argument. She would tell him when she thought it best. At the moment he was less interested in the issues of the people at the Abbey and more interested in the warm and wonderful woman nestled beside him.

"So you're abandoning me tomorrow?" He gave an exaggerated pout that made her laugh.

"I'll catch the train from York after lunch," she informed him. "I'll be in the office by tea time. We can walk home together."

"But tea time is so far away, how am to last that long without you?" He rolled towards her, pinning her snuggly into the couch cushions.

"I don't know, but I'm sure you will." She ran a hand along his pajama pants' waist and up underneath the top to touch his hot skin.

"Maybe if I have something to carry me through the day…" His voice was deep with unnecessary seduction.

"What did you have in mind, Mr. Carson?" Elsie squirmed in anticipation as a large hand gripped her backside and pulled her flush against him.

"We began debating a very important question last night, Mrs. Carson." Charles spoke slowly as he brought his lips down towards hers. "Maybe we could explore some of the couch related op…"

His sentence was cut short by the presence of an extra tongue in his mouth. With the conversation thus ended, the real debate could now begin.

TBC…


	77. Helping a Friend

"I've been thinking, love," she spoke to him over her shoulder as she cracked an egg into the skillet on the stove. She was still in her nightclothes and robe. Charles sat at the table dressed for the train. His bag was beside the door.

"That sounds dangerous," he quipped around a mouthful of toast and fried egg. He usually would have waited for her before eating, but he needed to leave soon for his train and she had insisted he not wait. He was famished after their activities the night before.

"What do you think of Mr. Molesley?"

"I try not to."

Elsie laughed at him and shook her head. Charles would never forgive Molesley. "I mean for Robert's valet."

"Be serious, El."

"I am."

"Molesley has a job."

"But Isobel doesn't need a butler," Elsie argued. "She only keeps him on out of respect for his dedication to Mr. Matthew. I think she'd hoped he'd find another position by now."

"He won't look unless he has to. He only left his old position for Crawley House because the Dowager made it her business to bring him back to the village when they opened Crawley House for Cousin Isobel and Mr. Matthew."

"I always wondered why she bothered."

"Mrs. Molesley was Lady Violet's maid when she was first at Downton. They stayed quite close, even throughout Mrs. Molesley's illness," Charles explained. "I think she's always considered herself something of a godmother to Molesley."

"All the more reason to give him a try at valet; he's practically family."

"He's a bumbling fool," Charles grumbled.

"He's good with a needle," Elsie insisted.

"A valet needs more than that. He must exude gravitas and confidence befitting his employer."

"He's already a butler; they're supposed to have both those in spades," Elsie reminded him. "He was very good with Mr. Matthew."

"Mr. Matthew didn't want a valet and hardly knew what to do with one. Mr. Molesley has barely enough gravitas to match Crawley House." Charles made a chopping motion with his hand that was meant to denote finality. "Robert will never accept him as valet."

"He would if you convinced him." Elsie sat down at the table with her own breakfast.

"Why should I convince him of something that I don't believe?"

"It would help out Isobel."

"If she doesn't want a butler, then she should tell Molesley so and allow him some time to find another position." Charles was adamant. The very idea of Mr. Molesley being the permanent valet for Lord Grantham was almost repugnant to him. Thomas would be a better choice. Charles wondered vaguely if Thomas wouldn't prefer valet to butler. It certainly suited him better.

Lost in his own thoughts, it took Charles a few moments to realize that his wife was staring daggers at him. So much for finality. "I'll mention it to Robert, but I won't force him to take on a valet he doesn't want."

"I suppose I can't ask for more," Elsie took the small triumph and began her breakfast.

"That wasn't your philosophy last night," Charles smirked cheekily. "Thank goodness."

-00-

Elsie walked up to the Abbey after kissing her husband off to the train. She knew it was silly for her to miss him when she would see him again that afternoon, but she felt an emptiness in the world around her when he was so far off.

She found Anna in the housekeeper's sitting room. When Elsie knocked, Anna swiveled around to face her. "And how is her highness doing this morning?"

"She's still not happy, but I can tell that she's trying to be happy for me," Anna smiled. "She is coming around, as you said she would."

"As I _hoped_ she would," Elsie corrected.

"Not that I mind, but why are you still here? I thought you and Mr. Carson were headed back to Hull today."

"I have a little matter to see to and then I'm taking Edith to York for lunch."

"A 'little matter'?"

"Yes, in fact, you might be able to help me. It has to do with one of the maids under your authority."

"If this is about Miss Braithwaite, I'm not sure she is under my authority," Anna sighed. "She walks around like she owns this place. I've never met a more smug…_maid_ in my life. And I knew Sarah O'Brien!"

Elsie was shocked at what she was hearing. For a moment, she'd thought Anna was going to call Edna a bitch.

"She's been making trouble for Mr. Branson. It was part of the reason I let her go the first time, but then Lady Rose and Lady Cora had to go and hire her back."

"You wrote her a glowing recommendation," Anna reminded her.

"Yes, I did; to help her get as far away from Downton as possible. It didn't work."

"So she came back and has set her sights on poor Mr. Branson again?"

"It would seem."

"How can I help?"

-00-

"Oh, it's you," Edna scowled at Elsie as she stepped into the housekeeper's sitting room to find Elsie and Tom standing there. Edna didn't spare a second look for Tom. "Are you going to gang up on me and try to pay me off or have you come out of retirement to sack me again?"

"I'm here to help a friend avoid making a terrible mistake."

"He didn't seem to think it was so terrible when he took me to his bed."

Elsie knew the maid was trying to rattle her by being vulgar. It wasn't working. If anything, it made Elsie even more determined to defend Tom. Elsie couldn't help but think of the parallel situation with Charles and Tamara; a good and vulnerable man being preyed on by a calculating woman of low morals.

"He didn't take you to his bed. You got him drunk and then came to his bed."

"I don't think people will see much difference."

Edna was right; polite society wouldn't understand. Most people wouldn't believe that women could be physical aggressors. Even in cases when men forced themselves on women, society more often than not turned a blind eye. Elsie had no idea how to handle this. She was going to have to bluff her way around this smug seductress. There were two goals; Edna must go and the family must never find out.

"I only want his word that he'll do the right thing if I am pregnant," Edna said smoothly. "I want my baby to have a father and I won't change my mind about that; however much you offer."

"I wasn't planning to make an offer. I doubt there is a child and even if there were, how do we know you weren't already pregnant?" Elsie demanded just as Anna pushed in from the hallway. If the conversation she'd walked in on shocked her, she did not show it.

"There is no child and I have proof." Anna pushed the door shut behind her before producing a book and a small box from the apothecary.

"You've been through my things. You had no right to go through my things!"

"I had every right," Anna spoke with unquestionable authority. She handed Tom the book, 'Married Love' and handed Elsie the box. Tom goggled at the book, unsure of what it meant. Elsie had heard of the book, which was banned as indecent in America. Though she did not understand what exactly the box contained, Elsie was sure it was something to prevent unwanted pregnancy. She decided to act as though she knew what she was holding.

"So, once you had secured his promise, you'd have found a way to become pregnant or fake a pregnancy," Elsie accused. "You aren't the first girl to try to trap a man like that."

Edna could see she was losing. She appealed to Tom desperately, "But I'm as good as you. I mean to make a go of being your wife."

Tom stood in helpless shock. Anna and Elsie closed ranks beside him as Elsie addressed the maid.

"I think you should go."

"You can't stop me from speaking to Her Ladyship."

"No, you're right. That, I cannot do," Elsie admitted. "But if you want a reference or another job during your natural lifetime, you'll hold your tongue."

Anna nodded her support of this statement. Tom stood between them looking like a deer in headlights.

Elsie took the book from Anna and turned to Edna. "These are yours, I think." She handed the box and book to Edna who looked flustered and angry. Fortunately for Tom, Edna could think of nothing further to threaten. She briskly opened the door and stalked out of the room.

Tom sighed in relief. "Thank you. Thank you to you both. I didn't know what to do…"

"Just be more wary in future," Elsie advised. "You're lucky she wasn't willing to risk getting pregnant before she was sure of you. Not all women are that careful."

Tom looked duly chastised and slunk out of the room. Elsie doubted he'd touch another drink or another woman for a very long time.

"I suppose I have a reference to write," Anna shook her head in amazement. "Is this sort of thing normal for housekeepers?"

"Part and parcel of the job," Elsie smiled.

"Then I'm more glad than ever that it won't be my job for much longer."

"Nonsense, you did very well. You'd have made a fine housekeeper, if that's what you'd wanted."

"Thank you. That's high praise coming from you."

Someone knocked on the door. Elsie and Anna answered in unison, "Come in."

Madge smiled in at them. She liked having Mrs. Carson back in the house, even if she wasn't officially housekeeper anymore. It added a sort of stability to the place. "Lady Mary is asking for you."

"Tell her I'll be right up," Anna answered.

"No, not you, Mrs. Bates. She asked for Mrs. Carson."

Elsie rolled her eyes and smiled at Anna. "I'll go up directly. Thank you, Madge." Elsie She had hoped to avoid Mary today.

"Good luck," Anna winked as Elsie left to answer Mary's summons.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ Elsie's adventures at Downton continue…I'm not sure that would have worked, but I wasn't convinced by the canon scene either. Anna had to get involved because Elsie didn't have the right to search the servant's rooms.**


	78. An Aunt's Work is Never Done

"Thank you for coming, Aunt Elsie." Mary was at her mirror as usual. "Tom said you would be around this morning."

"What can I do for you?" Elsie wasn't in the mood to beat around the bush.

"Sit, please," Mary invited. She stood and offered Elsie her seat. It was a strange sensation to sit in the Lady's chair for a change. Elsie realized that from this vantage, she could see every corner of the room, either directly or in the mirror. It had never occurred to her that most ladies' bedrooms were configured this way. It allowed the lady being waited upon to keep a surreptitious eye on her maid if she so wished.

Elsie was still considering this bit of ingenuity when Mary sat down in the chair she'd taken from the corner. The young woman exhibited behavior that would have denoted trepidation or insecurity in any one else. Having never seen Mary at a loss before, Elsie was not sure how to interpret Mary's wringing of her hands or the worrying of her lip.

"Was there something specific you wished to discuss?" Elsie prompted.

"Haven't you guessed?"

"Anna says you are trying to be happy for her. That's enough for her at the moment."

"But not enough for you?"

"My opinion doesn't enter into it."

"Maybe not directly, but I do welcome your opinion; even if it isn't favorable." Mary's eyes sparked with a little mischief before she returned to her previous state of agitation. "The fact is…I'm not sure…"

"Yes?"

"I've seen Anna almost every day of my life since I debuted. She's been with me through so much; so much that's happened in both our lives." Mary didn't need to list all the things for Elsie; marriages, deaths, incarcerations, war. "She knows _everything_ about me and I know a fair bit about her. I consider her a friend."

"I think she considers you a friend also," Elsie encouraged.

"But through all that, even if we are friends, we've always been Lady and maid." Mary looked expectantly at Elsie as though nothing else needed to be said.

"And that's going to change." Elsie ventured to identify the as yet unspoken fear.

"Yes. Precisely."

"And you're worried that…" Elsie was not willing to do all the heavy lifting on this conversation. Mary was going to have to discover and name her emotions for herself.

"That we won't be as close as we are now."

"How could you be? You certainly won't see each other every day."

"What if she doesn't want to see me at all?" Mary finally spoke her deepest fear. "What if she's only ever tolerated me because we paid her?"

"I'm sure that isn't the case," Elsie said truthfully.

"But I can't offer her extra half days or an early night. I can't offer her anything at all, really." Mary looked truly terrified. "Tom is a friend and Matthew was, but I'm not sure I know how to be a friend to a woman. I don't have any women I would consider friends from amongst those whom society says would be appropriate. I can barely hold a civil conversation with my own sister."

Elsie was shocked. These were all things Elsie might have argued to Charles about their self-centered niece. Elsie didn't know if it was better or worse that Mary was fully aware of her shortcomings. To be so self-aware and not take steps to correct one's behavior seemed either lazy or spoiled or both.

"There isn't much to know, dear," Elsie answered slowly. "The most important part of being a friend is being able to put the other person's needs above your own." Elsie did not add that she thought Mary likely incapable of such a thing.

"But how does that manifest in the day to day? How do we retain the relationship we've built when we will see so little of each other?" Mary's sincere concern, while still not winning Elsie over completely, did convince her to try to answer. At least it might benefit Anna, Elsie thought.

"There isn't an easy answer to that. I used to see my sister for one week every other year if I was lucky, but we always picked up right where we left off," Elsie shrugged. "It's just that way with some people. When you know someone so well, you don't _have_ to see them every day to maintain the trust and intimacy of true friendship."

"So I just wait until we bump into each other in the village and we'll immediately be back to being the friends we were?"

"It won't just happen. You'll have to make an effort to see her." Elsie fought down the sarcasm that bubbled up inside her. She could not believe she was explaining the mechanics of friendship to a woman over the age of thirty who was not only a widow, but a mother. "You can invite her here for tea or visit her at the pub or go shopping in York or…"

"Shopping! That's it!" Mary brightened as she found a shining straw at which she could grasp. She'd always enjoyed showing Anna her purchases. Indeed, she would have preferred to take Anna with her to view the new fashions rather than her own mother or Aunt Rosamund. "I shall take her shopping to celebrate her new life."

"That's very generous, but it's a bit more complicated…" Elsie tried to explain, but Mary was done listening.

"She'll need a whole new wardrobe as proprietress of the Grantham Arms." _She'll still need me._

"I suppose that is true," Elsie gave up the notion of pointing out some of the finer nuances of friendship. She'd leave that up to Anna, who had more love and patience for Mary than Elsie had.

"That reminds me," Mary jumped up from her seat. She was quite transformed from the insecure creature she had been only moments before. Her eyes were gleaming with her usual confidence and intelligence. "I have something I want to show you, Aunt."

-00-

As strange as Elsie's morning had already been, her day quickly descended into the surreal as she sat in the front of the car with Edith. The youngest Crawley had suggested that they take the car to York and Elsie could catch the train there while Edith drove back to Downton. This suggestion had not been without an ulterior motive, apparently. The car provided privacy that neither the train nor the restaurant would offer. Edith was currently using that privacy to pour her problems into Elsie's lap.

"Married?" Elsie nearly fell out of the car in shock. "How long have you known?"

"Almost since the start," Edith admitted. "But things weren't serious until Scotland."

"How serious?" Something about Edith's tone made Elsie very nervous.

"He told me he loved me," Edith beamed. For one shining moment, she forgot Michael was missing and only remembered that he loved her. Elsie's heart almost broke for the poor girl. Of course it would be Edith who fell in love with a married man.

"He'd have divorced her years ago, but British law doesn't allow the insane to be party in divorce," Edith explained what Michael had told her. "That's why he was in Germany."

Elsie was beginning to regret pointing out that a man who is seriously wooing a woman does not suddenly go to Germany to look at Mad King Ludwig's castles. _Too smart for your own good sometimes,_ her mother's voice reproached her.

"Does anyone else know?" Elsie suspected she knew the answer since she hadn't heard about any shouting upstairs involving Lady Edith.

"Matthew knew, but didn't tell anyone before…You must promise not to tell."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Elsie promised. Here was yet another secret she definitely could not tell Charles any time soon. She didn't like the idea of lying to him, but it couldn't be helped. She wouldn't lie to him about knowing something; she'd just have to refrain from telling him any details. He would accept that for now. He wasn't likely to guess any of the secrets she now carried.

"Pull the car over," Elsie demanded suddenly. Edith complied at once; pulling over and stopping the engine.

"Are you alright? Are you feeling ill?" She looked to her aunt with concern. Elsie didn't answer. Instead, she reached her arms around Edith and hugged her.

"You poor dear," Elsie whispered. "I can't believe you've been carrying this all this time."

While Edith was not surprised at Elsie's sympathy, she was astonished by the tenderness and by the tears flowing freely from her own eyes. Elsie was offering everything Edith longed for from her family but was afraid to ask. Would her mother respond like this? Did she dare risk it? As wonderful as her Aunt Elsie's embrace felt, Edith wanted this support and acceptance from her parents. History had taught her not to expect it.

Edith did not weep for long, but she felt cleansed by the fallen tears. "Thank you," she said hoarsely as she started up the automobile. "I needed that, I think."

"It's for you to decide, but I think you should at least tell your mother," Elsie counseled. Elsie knew enough of Cora to know that Edith's mother wouldn't think any worse of her daughter

"Not yet," Edith insisted.

"As I say, it's for you to decide."

Edith wasn't ready to tell her mother about Michael's wife any more than she was ready to tell her new aunt about the night she'd spent with Michael in London. It was bad enough that Rosamund knew. Edith had two aunts and each of them held half of her secret. She was not ready to have anyone know the whole sorry tale; certainly not until she'd experienced a resumption of her monthlies.

TBC…

* * *

**AN/ Poor Elsie. She's like the dumping ground for everyone's insecurities and secrets. **

**I hope I've walked the line between trying to understand Mary and still being extremely frustrated by how she treats people.**

**I've been super busy and have been terrible about replying to reviews. I cherish all of them and will try to do better.**


	79. Happiness is a Butterfly

Elsie stumbled slightly as she stepped into the office building. She'd dozed during the short train ride, but her day had already been exhausting. She needed a hug from her husband but decided to check in at her own office first since she'd pass the floor on her way up. Their floor was empty and the main door was closed and locked. Elsie assumed they were all at the warehouse, still organizing the new acquisitions.

Elsie dug her keys out from the bottom of her handbag and let herself in. A note on the reception desk from May confirmed Elsie's assumption. Elsie smiled at the fact that they had a reception desk even though they had no receptionist. Nor were they in any way prepared to receive visitors.

Her own office was unlocked and she hurried in to drop off her case behind her desk. A small note was sitting on her desk next to something wrapped in one of Charles' handkerchiefs. Smiling at his improvised wrapping, Elsie read the note,

_'Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.  
-Nathanial Hawthorne._

_I couldn't resist being a vulture. You were meant to have this._

_C.'_

Apparently he had broken down and bought her something at the estate sale. Elsie wondered what it could be and why he thought she had to have it. He obviously felt strongly enough about it to make the purchase even if it made him despicable to himself. When she lifted the handkerchief she found a box that she judged likely to hold a rather expensive fountain pen. She thought it odd he would have been so taken with a pen, but she opened the box and she understood. Nestled in the velvet lining of the box she found a petite, ladies fountain pen of black lacquer with gold filigree wrapped around the middle and on the cap. The delicate filigree design was beautiful lacework that looked like butterfly wings.

Elsie rolled the lovely gift back and forth in her fingers, taking in the fine craftsmanship. She reread the quote and smiled at her husband's sentimental streak. There are few who would have suspected how deep that streak ran. She smiled as she lay the pen back on the desk beside the notebook he'd given her for Christmas. She had not bothered decorating her office yet, but the little pen with the notebook seemed to announce that the room was finally hers.

The main offices of _Carson and Son Shipping_ were located two flights up from the floor occupied by _East Riding Event Planning and Staffing Solutions_. Elsie resisted the urge to take the steps two at a time. She was that eager to thank Charles for his sweet gift.

Upon reaching the fourth floor, Elsie immediately knew something was wrong. For starters, elderly Ms. Fromme was not at her desk to offer Elsie tea and a biscuit with a knowing smirk. Elsie walked past the empty reception area and into the office proper. Things should have been busy here in the middle of the day, but it was eerily quiet.

Charles' office was empty. His valise sat in the corner. He must have dropped it off here before heading to the warehouse.

"Hello?" Elsie thought she heard voices further down the hallway.

"Ms. Elsie!" It was Fredrick's devoted personal assistant, Jeremy. With so many Carsons running around, the staff just referred to everyone in the family by their first name, but decorum demanded titles. "Thank god. Mr. Charles said you'd be back about now."

The normally energetic, middle aged bachelor rushed down the hall towards her with an uncharacteristic frown. "You must come with me at once."

Elsie allowed him to take her arm and lead her back to the stairs just as she caught a glimpse of Ms. Fromme's tear streaked face peeking around the door at the end of the hall. Elsie's heart began to race. "Where are we going, Jeremy?"

"The hospital. There was an accident at the warehouse."

Elsie's world dimmed before her eyes. Everything contracted around her. She'd spent all morning dealing with other people's problems and now was faced with her own worst nightmare; something had happened to Charles. She didn't faint, but she stumbled and reached out for the wall as the blood drained from her face.

Jeremy realized his mistake at once. "Oh, no, Ms. Elsie, Mr. Charles is fine. I'm sorry I wasn't clear. It's Mr. Fredrick who was injured." His voice caught as he said his boss' name.

Elsie's relief overwhelmed her guilt for feeling that relief. Elsie prayed that Fredrick would be alright, but she thanked God that her Charles was safe.

On the drive over, Jeremy explained about a forklift and a blind corner and swerving and crates or pallets falling, but Elsie barely heard him. She understood well enough. Her thoughts were focused on reaching her husband and on being a support to him. The car was still moving when she opened the door and jumped out. She dashed into the hospital and grabbed the first nurse she saw.

In short order, Elsie and Jeremy, who had caught her up, were shown up to an empty surgical waiting room. "Someone will be with you shortly," the nurse promised before scurrying away. Elsie was confused that Charles wasn't there waiting. The nurse had indicated that he would be. The room felt like a cell, small and close. There were three doors into and out of the room; the one through which they'd entered, one opposite that door and another to Elsie's right. A long, leather couch sat against the wall that did not have a door. Several uncomfortable looking chairs were pushed randomly against the walls and small lamp sat in one corner casting a dismal and hopeless light.

Elsie was about to start opening doors and calling for people when she heard a familiar growl. Her heart leapt. Though she could not make out the words, she could hear that Charles was very unhappy with whatever someone was telling him. A reasonable sounding voice grew louder as footsteps approached from the door on the right.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Carson, but we cannot accept more than two pints of blood from any donor. Surely they told you that when you donated during the war?"

Undecipherable grumbling.

"I'm sure you can handle it, but it doesn't matter if you are a large man, the rules are the rules. Please, I must ask you to return to the waiting room."

The door opened and Elsie didn't know whether to laugh or cry as her giant bear backed into the room with the tiny nurse fairly shoving him. Without wasting words, Elsie grabbed his hand and he turned to face her. His face switched instantly from angry consternation to naked vulnerability. She rushed into his arms. The nurse looked relieved to hand her problem off to someone else.

"Nurse, I'd like to give blood, if it would help," Jeremy offered instantly.

"What type are you?" She asked, all business.

"B negative," the personal assistant answered promptly. Most people had learned their blood type during the war. Jeremy knew that Mr. Fredrick's type was B positive.

"Come with me, sir."

Jeremy followed the nurse back through the doorway. Neither Charles nor Elsie noticed or cared that he'd left.

TBC…

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**AN/ ****The next chapter will be pretty tear jerky. ****You can't say I didn't warn you. Thoughts?  
**


	80. Waiting

Charles and Elsie embraced in the empty waiting room. They swayed as if taking turns holding each other up. Elsie slowly became aware that Charles was speaking as they rocked ever so slightly. He mumbled words that were meant to explain the situation but Elsie recognized that he was just parroting what he'd already been told. The words held little actual meaning to her at the moment; internal bleeding, spleen, vertebrae, paralysis…

His words faded away as imperceptibly as they had begun. Elsie was surprised to find herself listening for words that didn't come. He'd come to the end of his recitation and had nothing more to say, like when he used to announce people arriving at a ball.

Charles hadn't told her everything, but he had told her enough. Elsie had gleaned the most important information. Timothy, Emily and the girls were in with Fredrick, who was conscious but about to go into surgery. Charles didn't say explicitly, but Elsie understood; they were saying goodbye in case the surgery was unsuccessful.

Something in his voice told her that Charles was devoid of hope. Elsie could not claim to harbor much hope herself, but she would share with him what little bit she could muster. Even a glimmer of hope might help him; like a single, stalwart candle in a window spied from afar by a lost soul on a black and stormy night.

She leaned back, still surrounded by him but able to look up at his pale features. He seemed confused as he looked down at her, as if he didn't recognize her, as if he wasn't sure where he was. He looked almost faint. Elsie remembered that he'd just given a quart of blood, though he'd always recovered very quickly from donating in the past.

"Come sit down, Charles," she led him to one of the chairs. Elsie wanted to leave the couch for Emily and the girls. She pulled another chair up close beside him and his countenance cleared slightly.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said simply as she set her hand on his.

They sat in silence, but not for long. The door Elsie had not yet seen opened did indeed open and the healthy remainder of the Carson family flowed into the room.

"Elsie!" Emily smiled at the new arrival. Though her eyes were red, the smile was genuine. She was honestly relieved to have Elsie there. She needed a practical friend she could rely upon to help with the girls. Emily doubted Timothy or Charles would be much help if the worst happened. With Elsie here, at least Emily wouldn't have to worry about Charles.

Elsie left Charles and moved to Emily. The girls gravitated to Charles. Timothy stood blankly where he'd been when the door closed behind them.

Elsie and Emily held hands, both women squeezing almost painfully in an effort to feel anything but numb. "He's just gone into surgery. The doctor thinks" _the doctor hopes _"they can stop most of the bleeding if they remove the spleen."

Elsie was sure Charles had already told her that, but the words made more sense the second time around.

Emily didn't go into any further details and Elsie did not press. Elsie remembered now what Charles had already told her about the spinal injury and there was no reason yet to frighten the girls with talk of paraplegia. If he lived to be an invalid, they would be lucky.

And so their vigil began. Jeremy came and went and returned again saying something about keeping people informed. The tea trolley came through at least twice. Charles and Timothy sat like sentinel gargoyles in the ugly, uncomfortable chairs. The girls eventually settled on the couch between Elsie and Emily. They dozed when their eyelids grew too heavy and woke when their worries grew too great.

No one spoke. Any topic but the surgery was too frivolous, but it was pointless to talk about something over which they had no control and about which they had almost no knowledge.

Elsie watched Emily carefully, looking for signs of fatigue. She saw none. Elsie watched Timothy visibly age before her eyes under the stress. The second time the tea trolley arrived Elsie suggested they try and find a bed for Timothy. Grateful for something to do, Jeremy had run off and made it happen.

In this windowless room, time did not exist. Elsie could not have sworn if an hour had passed or a week. Her mind wandered to what she had expected to do that evening. She and Charles would have left the offices a little early so they would have time to stop by the butcher for sausages or pork chops before heading to the green grocer. Shopping for dinner with Charles was always an adventure. With the lack of culinary expertise between them it was almost assured that they would encounter some vegetable they knew the name of, had eaten before, but had no idea how to prepare.

Charles often made a game of trying to find the ugliest tuber or one that he claimed looked like someone they knew. Then he would challenge Elsie to find a new way to cook it for dinner. She usually turned the tables on him, which was how they ended up with roasted turnips with scallions and dill one night.

While dinner was cooking, Charles would taste little bites and make the wine selection. Lately, he'd been partial to reds, but that was probably because the vegetables were currently of the earthy, winter varieties.

Elsie sighed and reprimanded herself for thinking such frivolous thoughts. When she scanned the room, she found Charles staring at her with a bittersweet half smile on his face. He had been watching her and Elsie was sure he knew what she had been thinking of. She offered him a sheepish grin when he mouthed, 'I love you.'

His gazed lowered and she saw him considering young Annette and even younger Brittany.

Some of the numbness subsided when Charles looked at his sleeping cousins. They would be his responsibility now. Even if he survived, Fredrick would no longer be the head of the family. Charles remembered back a few interminable hours ago. He had held an impossibly calm Fredrick as stead as he could in the back of the truck as Arthur had driven them wildly to the hospital.

_"You'll look after my girls, won't you, Charles?"_

_"Don't be silly, lad, you'll be there to look after them yourself."_

_"I hope so, but, if I'm not…"_

_"Of course I'll look out for them."_

_"And support them no matter what they want to do?" Fredrick had pressed. "You know Annie wants to be a doctor."_

_"If that's what she wants."_

_"You won't tell her that's a job for a man?"_

_"I'll tell them the only thing they can't be is king."_

_Fredrick laughed at that. "Brit might be disappointed to hear that. She's been following the suffragette movement. I think she might fancy politics. Could you support her in that, Charles?"_

_"I'll see her as prime minister if she wants it," Charles swore and meant every word._

_"Be careful, she just might," Fredrick smiled. _

_The truck horn blared and they were thrown about in the back as Arthur cursed at something._

_"Don't let Dad work too hard." Fredrick's voice had been growing weaker already and Charles noticed his color turning pale. "And Emily…she's enjoyed working with Elsie and Suzanne so much. Don't let her stop. It isn't just about the parties for her; she's a born business woman at heart."_

_"I'll look after them all," Charles promised. "But so will you. You're going to be fine, lad. We're almost to the hospital."_

_"Right, I know that, I just wanted to hear you promise; just in case I'm not fine, in case I don't make it…"_

_"I promise, lad. I'll help look after them until you're better or I'll take care of them all if…"_

_"Thank you, Charles, that's all I needed."_

Charles hadn't spoken to Fredrick since. Fredrick had rallied a little after receiving a transfusion of blood; enough to see his family, but Charles had not been there.

Charles looked at his sleeping cousins. He'd meant what he said; he would look after them. It seemed to be his destiny to look after people. Luckily, Charles was pretty good at it and so was the woman by his side.

The door to the surgery wing opened. The doctor walked in wearing a fresh, white coat. The truth was immediately evident in his eyes, but it still stung like a slap when he said, "I'm so sorry."

TBC…

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**AN/ I do apologize for the sadness. When I was writing 'Because I Could Not Stop For Death' I added the death at the end because I wanted to tie that story to the present 'Moving' stories when they could openly support each other during a time of loss. I'll try to keep the tears to a minimum. This is really meant to show a progression in their relationship. **

**When Sybil died, the fact that they crossed the lines of propriety so far accented how deep their sorrow ran. How might they have helped each other if they had not been hindered by societal rules? I hope that comes through and that it interests you as much as it interests me. I didn't just kill someone off to be mean or sensational.**


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